Law and Marriage
by TeenTypist
Summary: It is hereby ordered that unmarried Pureblood witches and wizards aged 17-30 must marry a person of Halfblood or Muggle-born status. Within a generation no families will remain Pureblooded. Marriage Law twist. Chapter 6, Lavender's wedding, has been posted posted.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This could be a short story on it's own, but if there's interest, I'd really like to continue it. I've got 12 more pages written.

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**Prologue**

* * *

He stared at the paper in horror, hardly believing his eyes. He brushed a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes, staring at the letter yet again, the words sinking into his brain against his will. Surely this had to be illegal. There was no way they could enforce it. Surely he had rights, didn't he?

_1__st__ of August, 1999_

_To Mister Draco Malfoy,_

_ Upon careful consideration, the Ministry of Magic has determined that the out-dated ideology of blood purity was the driving force behind the war that wracked our civilization for several generations. It has lead to distressing amounts of life-loss and increasingly wide chasms between various segments of the wizarding population here._

_ Furthermore, to ensure that this does not occur again, the Ministry is prepared to take rather drastic measures._

_ The number of Pureblood families in Great Britain (with records dating back to 1532 or older) is now scarcer than one hundred. In addition to the social unrest caused by Pureblood mania, wizards studying heredity have determined there are serious physical risks associated with the amount of inbreeding that would occur if the remaining Pureblood families married only Pureblood families for the next 3 generations or more. It is hereby ordered that unmarried Pureblooded witches and wizards over the age of 17 and under the age of thirty must marry (with the intent of producing offspring with) a person of Halfblood or Muggle-born status. In this way, we can guarantee that no families will remain Pureblooded, and the tragedies that have followed our world for decades will not be repeated. History is inclined to repeat itself if those living in the present do not learn from their predecessors mistakes._

_ You are given the span of one calendar year to find a suitable mate. If you are unable or unwilling to do so, the Ministry does offer two alternatives. Ministry representatives will assist you in finding a partner of suitable age, blood, and (if possible) temperament. The second option is that you can at any time undergo voluntary sterilization (thus preventing the possibility of enduring Pureblooded lines)._

_Ever Yours,_

_Martia Goolenhaus_

_Under-Secretary to the Head of the Threat Assessment Office_

He had a year to marry or be sterilized. He shuddered at the thought, wondering what in the name of Salazar's forked tongue he was going to do. This was the worst birthday ever and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

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**Author's Note:**So this could be a short story on its own, but, if there's interest I'll publish the rest of the chapters (which are considerably longer). Chapter 1 is about a dozen pages. I know this seems Malfoy-centered, but it actually seems to be developing as more of an ensemble story-thus far: Malfoy, Blaise, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Neville, Hermione, Ginny...I haven't made any major decisions on pairings yet.

If you're interested in seeing a continuation of this story, please review. My goal is the prologue and 12 chapters (a chapter for each month).

I'd also dearly love suggestions for another title. I'm not real thrilled with this one. Preview for the next chapter:

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He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but only just. "I'll tell you what, Mother. I don't want to think about this right now. I have a full year before they can take any direct action against me. Let me enjoy this year to myself and I'll let you introduce me to my bride-to-be the day before my next birthday."


	2. August

**Author's Note:** This chapter ended up being a longer than I originally anticipated. I'll let you get on with reading it. A special thanks to Kamion, Treehugger1427, FlyingFaeriesDance, and Becky for reviewing. Thank you also to everyone who put this story on your favorites or alert list.

For the record, this story is not HPB or DH compliant.

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**August**

* * *

Draco was far from the only one to be displeased about this legislation. Fathers and mothers were aghast at the thought of their children being weighed down by a spouse they didn't find adequate. The witches and wizards affected by this law were unpleased, to say the very least. Neither Draco nor most of his friends that the least inclination to settle down yet. However, none of them were quite so adamant about the fact that they were willing to risk anyone doing unnatural things to their equipment.

Several of his friends had gotten their notifications by Owl today as well. Blaise noticed a small group of redheads in one corner of the establishment and a quickly disappearing bottle of something strong. There was some grumbling around Draco's birthday table over the fact that the fiery spirited Weasley girl was out of their grasps; they could care less about the other Weasleys. Greg ordered another pitcher for the table and Blaise took Draco's letter and turned it over, looking at the back. He felt around in his pocket for an everlasting quill.

"What are you doing?" drawled Draco, with a hint of frustration.

"Making a list," Blaise replied. He began to write, chewing on the end of the quill every so often and having to pull a tiny bit of feather out of his teeth once or twice. At the end of ten minutes, while the conversation continued around him, he at least had the start of a list: Pureblood males on one-side, and girls with less than Pureblood on the other. The table wasn't terribly concerned with Pureblood girls, since the Ministry had just decreed they couldn't have them. He hadn't put his name on either list. "The way I see it, here are potential girls for all of you, and here are all of your rivals."

Draco took the paper from him. His own name was on the correct side, along with Theo, Greg, Vince, Longbottom, Weasley(x3?), Macmillan, and a number of others. Most of the rival names were from his own house at Hogwarts—quite possibly because Blaise didn't bother remembering too many of the names from the other houses. Draco was certain that he could get whichever girl he chose, so he didn't worry terribly about his rivals. He was good looking and charming, wasn't he? And drowning in Galleons? Admittedly, the Galleons were a bit depleted. The family had made several rather large donations to the Ministry, Hogwarts, and survivor funds after the war as a way to try and bolster their reputation. He turned his attention to the other side of the list—the women.

Draco only had fuzzy recollection of many of the names he looked at—insults thrown at them between classes or comments about their bodies behind their backs. Granger's name was at the top of the list of course. He wrinkled his nose. He'd seen her at the Ministry on occasion. His eyes moved down the list with only the barest hints of recognition.

"I barely remember any of them," he said, taking a sip of his drink.

Blaise chuckled dryly. "I'm sure they remember you, so I hope you enjoy shooting blanks this time next year." He handed the list to Theo.

Theo frowned, looking over the list. "Blaise, why isn't your name on here?"

The darker boy shrugged noncommittally. "I didn't get a letter like the rest of you. I think one of my grandparents was a Halfblood. I have to check."

Draco looked at him incredulously.

He smiled wryly. "Well, I wasn't exactly going to spread that around the common room, was I? It does mean I can have the Weaslette. I've seen her in Diagon Alley. She didn't turn out half bad."

Theo snorted. "Potter will already be on his knees offering to save her from this thing."

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. "We'll see."

They drank to Draco's health and made several attempts at other conversation, but none of them could quite get into the spirit that night and it wasn't tremendously long before they called it a night and went their separate ways.

* * *

Hermione and Ginny were sitting in their apartment, looking over Ginny's letter. "Can they do this?"

"It shouldn't be legal. I understand where they're coming from. I mean, if they can make it so there aren't any more Pureblood families, then they've got nothing to hold their noses in the air over anymore, but this violates everyone's rights in so many ways…"

Ginny looked at her friend. "Well, no one is forcing _you_ to get married."

Hermione looked at the floor. It was true. No one had laid a mandate on her that she must get married, but she did have male friends who were Pureblood and were looking at ugly options in their futures if they couldn't find someone willing. "No, not yet they're not, but what if the Ministry can't find enough Muggle-borns and Halfbloods to volunteer to marry Purebloods? My name could get put into some sort of pool and it could be mandated that I have to agree to someone." She was quiet. "Besides, Ginny, you have four brothers that _are_ subjected to this law." That thought made her dizzy. She loved them to various degrees. She and Ron had had a rocky but workable relationship until they had moved in together. At that point things hadn't worked. There was no escaping from the habits they found exhausting in each other. She moved on briskly, not wanting to dwell on it. "I don't see how they think this is going to change anything anyway. Voldemort was a Halfblood himself, and he still rallied the support of Pureblood extremists."

They sat in silence a while, holding each other's hand. "We'll think of something. You don't have to act on this for a year," Hermione said gently. "I'll come up with something before that, I promise."

Ginny's voice was soft. "Harry hasn't stopped by yet, but it's only a matter of time. I don't know what to tell him. I don't want to get married because of some law."

Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand firmly once more. She vowed to herself that she'd find a way to fix this. There had to be a way. "I'm going to make you some tea, and then I think you should sleep. It's been a long day." She got off the couch and moved into the kitchen, putting heating the kettle for tea and adding a dash of Dreamless Sleep Draught both to Ginny's mug as well as her own. She brought the tea to Ginny and hugged her. "Get some rest."

Ginny smiled weakly and left for her bedroom, sipping her tea.

Hermione could help looking at the girl's letter, crumpled on the couch, one more time. She smoothed it out, reading it, wondering how many months the Ministry would wait before sending out letters to Muggle-borns and Halfbloods. Would they bother asking for volunteers first, or would they make it a requirement from the beginning? She smoothed the letter out and then folded it carefully. She tucked it in a drawer in the kitchen and took her cooling tea to the bedroom to drink and sleep.

* * *

Ginny was far from the only Weasley who had trouble sleeping that night. Her parents were up long into the night, worried about the five of their children who would be affected by this law. The twins and Charlie leaned on one another after rather too much Firewhiskey, determined that if tomorrow was going to go to hell, then at least they ought to have a bloody good time today (or numb themselves beyond recall). Ron refused to come out and locked himself away alone.

* * *

Neville was in his home office, staring at his letter as though it were a snake about to bite him if he turned away. He was almost certain that he fell asleep with his eyes open, so filled he was with fear over closing them.

* * *

Within 48 hours of the Ministry's letters reaching their recipients, the tiny office at the _Daily Prophet_ that handled personal ads had more mail waiting for it than the old witch who worked there had ever seen. She jotted a note down on a scrap of parchment, "Please send reinforcements." With a flick of her wand she sent it off down the corridor. Generally there was never more than maybe a dozen ads of this sort in the paper. People preferred to get their news from their newspaper and their dates from…She frowned. Where _did_ people find dates? It had been a long time since she'd been on one…

* * *

Monday morning came far too early for Draco's liking, and his favorite breakfast, brought to him in bed by a house-elf did little to soften his annoyance at the world for existing at such an early hour.

Reality crashed down on him rather abruptly when his mother followed the house-elf only a few moments later. She had his letter in her hand. He scowled at it. How could she approach him with such a thing before he'd even eaten his breakfast? The letter had arrived Friday and he'd quite pointedly ignored it since the end of his disappointing birthday. He had gone out and bought himself new robes and indulged in a few meals at his favorite restaurants and even gone to a Quidditch match. He had done everything but think about that letter. Now she had gone and made Monday worse by bringing it in. "I don't want to discuss it, Mother."

"Draco, I've given you the weekend to indulge yourself, but you must take this seriously."

"Not now, Mother, I'm in the middle of breakfast."

She gave him a level sort of look and then smiled at him as though he were 5 years old. "I'll wait." She seated herself at his desk, looking at him while he ate.

He put up the pretense of eating calmly and ignoring her for only a couple of moments before he gave up. She was making him too uncomfortable. "Say whatever it is you've come to say."

She stood and smoothed her robes, coming to sit on the edge of his bed. "Draco, I know that this is all a bit sudden, but you do need to act sooner rather than later unless you intend to let them pair you with any old hag off the street. If you act sooner, you have the opportunity to choose the best of this undesirable situation."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but only just. "I'll tell you what, Mother. I don't want to think about this right now. I have a full year before they can take any direct action against me. Let me enjoy this year to myself and I'll let you introduce me to my bride-to-be the day before my next birthday."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "You have 361 days." She headed out of the room.

He sat up, pushing the tray from his lap and trying to untangle himself from the blankets. "Mother. Mother, I wasn't serious. Mother!" He stumbled down the hallway after her.

* * *

Hermione paced in her office, waiting for Harry. Ginny hadn't heard a thing from him all weekend. She wasn't anxious to hurry any advances he might make, but it did seem strange in light of the news. The girl from the front office knocked and came in. "This came for you by owl about an hour ago. I forgot about it."

She opened the note and recognized Harry's handwriting immediately. "Let's meet at the deli instead of your office." She growled. How difficult was it to give someone their messages on time? Here she was waiting ten minutes after they were supposed to meet, and she hadn't gotten the change of location because a flighty girl hadn't delivered her message.

She grabbed her bag and went to meet him as quickly as possible. He looked up in surprise when she arrived slightly out of breath. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

"I'm fine; the new girl at the front desk only just gave me your message. Did you order yet?"

He pushed her chair out for her with his foot so she could sit down. "Yes. I ordered your usual sandwich: turkey on rye, no pickles."

"Thank you, I'm starved. So what do you think of everything that's going on?"

"You and I just talked last week, Hermione…things mostly seem like they're improving, don't they? The new Minister seems like he wants to try and actively solve problems instead of letting them fester…"

Hermione stared at him. "So you think this new measure is actually going to fix things? Just like that?"

Harry frowned. "Can you back up a second? What new measure?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment, the waitress came by with both of their sandwiches and drinks. Once the Muggle was out of earshot, Hermione leaned across the table. "Harry, have you talked to anyone in the last three days? The Minister passed a law ordering all of-age Purebloods to marry Muggle-borns or Halfbloods, that way there'd be no one to discriminate against. His idea was that then we'd all be equal."

He stared at her, his mouth agape for a moment. "That won't work. Merlin, what was he thinking?"

"It seems to have been spear-headed by the office of Threat Assessment, which I've never even heard of before. Here, Ginny got this letter on Friday. I brought it in case you hadn't seen it, but I would have thought Ron would have told you by now…I'm sure all the unmarried Weasleys got one." She took the letter from her bag and slid it across the table towards him.

"I haven't seen Ron since early last week." He opened the letter, reading with growing confusion and anger. "Can they do this?"

"Apparently they did. I told Ginny to put off doing anything as long as possible at this point and promised her I'd try to find a way out of this. We have a year before they'd take drastic measures on anyone's body."

"I could—"

She shook her head. "Think about it, Harry. Would you want anyone proposing to you because they felt like they had to?" She lowered her voice. "At the same time, I understand why you would. I don't know what I'm going to say if Ron or Fred or George or Charlie were to ask, or if it came close to the deadline and one of them still needed someone. I don't want them to be put in a bad situation with a stranger, but at the same time…isn't this a choice we're supposed to have?"

He looked at his sandwich and realized he had no appetite. "So what are we supposed to do? How do we fight this?"

Hermione bit her lip and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "I don't know yet. I'm working on it. I'm going to be spending a lot of time going through legal documents I think, trying to prove why this is wrong, though I think it should be pretty self-evident. I understand what he's trying to do…but I don't understand how he could possibly expect this to work."

"How can I help?"

"Join me in research. Talk to whoever you can at the Ministry." She sighed. "I just don't understand how a Minister who seemed to be behind your plan to build a training and health center for werewolves would go and pass something like this."

He frowned. "I think I do. In both cases, it's a matter of trying to neutralize potential threats. Civilize the werewolves and make them safe with Wolfsbane potion. Attempt to civilize blood extremists by forcing them to bond with the people they dislike or to end their lines."

"Except that this isn't going to just affect closed-minded bigots like the Death Eaters. Families who get along fine with Muggle-borns are being forced into this too. I think if they don't have enough volunteers…Muggle-borns and Half-bloods will be forced or coerced too. And what happens to all the kids that the Ministry wants to see from this? Will the parents mistreat them for being something they didn't want in the first place? Partnerships they were forced into…" She trailed off. "I never thought I'd see the day when something like this would be written into law."

He reached out and held her hand and said nothing. He knew what it was like to grow up in a household where he wasn't wanted, where the people raising him thought he was an abomination.

* * *

Draco looked down at his manicured nails, not sure of what to do with himself. His mother had promised to leave him alone about the situation for a while, but who knew what she might get up to while leaving him alone? Maybe he ought to have some sort of backup plan. Or maybe not. Maybe he had had the right idea—enjoy the moment for the next twelve months, and then face his doom when it got around to finding him. He wandered the grounds of the mansion listlessly, wondering if he should have given some thought to that ridiculous business of getting a job. It just didn't seem terribly pressing over the past year. Still, he needed something to fill his time. There were a number of old girlfriends he could call, but given the present climate, that might cause more headaches than it solved.

He rather wished he could talk to Blaise, but unfortunately Blaise _did _have a job. He rubbed his neck. Maybe he ought to go to Diagon Alley and get a massage…maybe buy something new. He went inside to take a long shower and put on freshly pressed robes before going out. He passed his Mother making lists in the parlor and chose to ignore her. He Disapperated with a loud crack of imploding air.

* * *

Hermione left work early amid protests from her research partners. She made her way to the Ministry, and was surprised not to find it filled with angry protesters. Shouldn't other people be here complaining about this law that had passed without any warning? Surely enough people had been notified of the new law and were already angry?

Apparently not.

Hermione proceeded through the building, stopped by security guards who demanded to know her business. She was redirected to the flock of receptionists at the Minister's disposal and informed that the Minister had left for the day and if anyone had a mind to see him, they needed to make appointments in advance. When asked about his whereabouts, she was informed that he was at Flourish and Blotts, reading to young witches and wizards. By the time she had scheduled an appointment with the man (none was available for two weeks), and taken herself to the aforementioned bookstore, the Minister was already gone.

She stalked out of the bookstore, feeling more frustrated than she could ever remember feeling after being in a bookstore. It was a bookstore for Merlin's sake—it was supposed to make her smile and think about all the wonderful things waiting inside those fresh pages…

She took several deep breaths and tried to calm her mind. She needed something relaxing right now. Her eyes scanned the shops, looking for something helpful. Gringotts, Fortescue's, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes…her eyes slid over the signs one after another. She was tempted to go to Fortescue's, but passed it by. As her eyes continued to slide over the various shops, she found one that looked promising and went inside. It sounded like exactly what she needed. She talked to the girl at the front desk and the girl smiled and told her that someone would be with her in a few minutes if she'd just have a seat. Hermione sat down, rolling her shoulders forward and back to little avail.

"Well, I never expected to see you here."

She looked up, startled.

"Then again, you always were the anxious, tense sort, I shouldn't be so surprised." Draco Malfoy had come out, smiling from his three hours under the hands of two skilled massage therapists. His arms, legs, and back felt like a million Galleons.

"Malfoy." She looked him over for a moment, his hair a little mussed from lying on the table, but clothes immaculate as ever. She sighed. "Are you so short on activities to pass the time that you've fallen back to school boy insults?"

"Not at all. Just enjoying a bit of relaxation before my mother has me start interviewing fiancés," he said, attempting to sound bored. The truth was, that was exactly the sort of thing he expected of her. She might try to do as much of the process without him as possible, but it was far more likely that she'd encourage him to participate. She didn't actively want to make his life miserable.

"Interviewing. Sounds charming. Nothing quite so personal as an actual date then."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. I could conduct an interview over a glass of wine and lunch, or perhaps dinner. I suppose you've already got the whole Weasley brood after you?"

She shook her head, rather surprised the conversation had gone on as long as this. She'd certainly need her massage. She declined to answer. "The only reasonable thing to do is see to it that this law is repealed. Any two people who get married should only do so because they've decided they want to spend the rest of their lives together."

He arched and an eyebrow and chuckled softly, looking her over as if to see if she was serious. "Oh, there are generations upon generations who would disagree with you. Marriage for love isn't exactly an ancient idea. Probably enough members of the Wizengamot are old enough that the idea of someone else arranging the matches doesn't sound entirely foreign to them."

"Oh, is that the problem? I was assuming it was the relatively new members with big ideas but no sense causing the trouble," she said dryly.

Draco nearly chuckled at her sarcasm. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in applying for the job?"

"Wizengamot?"

He shook his head and started for the door, turning as he reached for the handle. "I meant the position of future Mrs. Malfoy."

A female voice drew Hermione's attention as Malfoy slipped out into the street. "Ms. Granger? Everything is ready for you. My name is Francine and I'll be taking care of you today."

Hermione smiled. An hour on the table while someone worked over her back and scalp was exactly what she needed today; maybe she'd even add the hot stone treatment. She was shown in to the room and the massage therapist waited outside while she undressed and slipped under the sheet. She called for the girl to come in. Malfoy might have a point about the older members of the Wizengamot. Particularly, amongst Pureblood families, arranged marriages probably persisted longer as a practice. Was that why there wasn't a bigger outcry going on over this? Was it that people like Malfoy had already assumed someone else was going to help pick their life partner and come to terms with it? Even so, that didn't entirely fit…

"Ms. Granger, please relax your muscles. You seem very rigid…"

Hermione blinked. She'd been so busy thinking about what Malfoy had said that she wasn't properly enjoying her massage. She wrinkled her nose—here she was naked, at a time when she's supposed to be relaxing, and she was tense over thinking about something Malfoy said. There were so many things wrong with this situation. She slumped against the table, trying to let her muscles go limp. "I'm sorry. I guess I had something on my mind, Francine. I'm not terribly good at relaxing."

"Would it help if I turned on some classical music?"

"That would be lovely. Can I add the hot stone treatment to the package I asked for?"

"Of course." Francine flicked her wand at the radio and at the bowl of stones in on a piece of furniture off to one side.

Within minutes, Hermione's conversation with Malfoy was temporarily forgotten.

* * *

Neville was working in the nursery, attempting to transplant the teething triats without getting bit. They were putting up a tremendous fight. He'd removed his dragon-hide gloves because the roots were so delicate, but if one of those things bit him, he'd spend the next several hours passed out on the floor. It didn't seem like a great idea.

He had a meeting with one of his suppliers this afternoon who was supposed to introduce him to some new distributors. It wasn't really practical for Neville to try and sell the plants himself. For one thing, they would fare better staying with him right up until the point where they were sold. Putting them in a shop would just let the leaves wilt and the plants suffer. He wasn't worried about his supplier, but meeting with the distributors made him nervous. He really did need to make a good impression. He'd been considering expanding towards the apothecary market.

He managed to finish them with the teething seedlings with nothing more than a scratch that made him doze for a few minutes and went into the house to change. It was weird to have the whole place to himself and occasionally, he wished he had a little more company. All the same, he had so much space here for his ever expanding garden. There were several sections that were fenced in, as well as two greenhouses. He spent the better part of fifteen minutes scrubbing his hands and nails before he even bothered to step in the shower or change into professional looking clothing.

He went to his desk and started rummaging through the papers on his desk for the documents he needed. He found them and, relieved, went to go Floo to his meeting. He couldn't believe August was half over.

* * *

Ginny was working as a shop assistant for Fred and George. She was hoping for a position with the Harpies in a year or two; she was training with a junior team now. In the meantime, working for Fred and George was entertaining, and it was a paycheck. She saw plenty of friends from Hogwarts. She opened the shop early, could get time off for Quidditch practice when she needed to, and even helped a little with the products.

It was about half past eleven when she saw a couple of what were clearly soon-to-be Hogwarts first years come in, evidently having ditched their parental escort. She saw them looking at a selection of fireworks she thought a bit beyond their control; better not to let them near anything that a first year couldn't handle or that wouldn't wear off naturally fast enough. She came up behind them quietly, grabbing something from a nearby shelf, and barked in their ears, scaring the poor things. She wondered if either of them had peed himself. She smiled. "Looking for something?"

They seemed to recover quickly enough. "Yeah! We want fireworks!"

"Big fireworks!"

Ginny looked at the shelf of fireworks and shrugged. "You don't want these. They're just all flash and noise."

"That sounds good to me," said one of the boys.

She leaned up against the shelves. "Did you buy an owl today? Or a cat?"

"My mum's getting my owl right now…"

She nodded in satisfaction. "And how would you feel if it dug all of its talons into your shoulder because it was afraid of the flash and bang? Hogwarts robes won't be much protection from that—flimsy stuff." She made a face, wrinkling her nose. "Scratches can be pretty bad, but just imagine if you scared your owl badly enough…the poor thing just couldn't help itself. It'd probably _go_ all over your homework. Hours of writing about transfiguring mice into water goblets down the drain. You'd have to rewrite it all."

He looked at his buddy. "Maybe not the fireworks."

Ginny gave herself a pat on the back. "Now, what you really need is something to get you out of class. Some Friday afternoons are just too gorgeous to sit in a stuffy room inside. What if I set you up with some Skiving Snackboxes?" They met this suggestion with a burst of enthusiasm and took the boxes she handed them. "Mind you, don't indulge in those too often, or your professors will send someone with you to the nurse and she might run all sorts of tests on you."

They stared at her in admiration. Here was someone who knew how not to get caught!

"Anything else you recommend?" asked the other boy.

"Sure, come over this way. We've got Headless Hats—you'll be able to scare your roommates half to death the first time you try it out. And Canary Creams are always a laugh at parties. Just put them on the table with the rest of the snacks…" She assisted them with their purchases, noting that there were a couple of other Hogwarts aged patrons in the shop and someone else off to one side. After the two boys had paid, she turned her attention to the other customers. A couple of girls were looking at love potions. Ginny frowned. They were too young for those. She scooped a bright blue Pygmy Puff out of its cage and held it in her arms. She looked at the girls sympathetically. "Boy problems?"

The shorter girl nodded, while the other one blushed embarrassedly. "Big boy problems. Boys are stupid."

Ginny nodded understandingly and gave them a look of sympathy. "Oh, I know boys are stupid. I've got six older brothers. What are your boy problems? Not brothers I'm guessing."

The shorter girl tucked her dark hair behind her ears. "The boys we like don't even know we're alive. All they care about it Quidditch."

She nodded again understandingly and scratched the Pygmy Puff behind the air, making him squeal a little; the taller girl noticed. "Well, can I tell you a secret?" She leaned in close and whispered, "Boys are trouble."

The short girl frowned. "My cousin has a boyfriend…"

"Boys grow up _really_ slow. By the time this boy realizes that you like him…you won't like him anymore. You'll have found someone much cooler."

The taller girl finally said something. "Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded. "My best friend was totally mad about one of my brothers for at least seven years. By the time he finally noticed and started liking her…she realized he was really messy, and he couldn't take care of himself. Seriously. Wait a bit for the boys to catch up with you and when you go after one…find one you don't need to use a love potion on. That'll be the one that's smart enough to keep." She started petting the Pygmy Puff again, moving it in her arms to draw the girls' attention to it. "I've had my heart broken by boys so many times…" She just shook her head. "Now, I just like playing with the Pygmy Puffs. Ralph here is a cutie, isn't he? He doesn't bite, or scratch, and he always pays attention to you. Do you want to pet him?" The girls quickly became enamored of the creature and each left with one, though they had a bit of a squabble over who would get the blue one. Ginny grinned in satisfaction.

"Slick."

She turned around, a little surprised at the male voice. She'd forgotten there was another customer in the shop. He was fairly attractive; he had a good complexion, a strong nose, and dark hair. He didn't look much older than she was, but she couldn't place him. "What?"

He chuckled. "I saw what you did, first with those boys, and then the girls. Kept them from buying anything they were going to damage themselves on, and still managed to make a sale anyway."

She shrugged. "A girl's got to eat. My name is Ginny. Anything I can talk you out of or into today?" She smiled.

He smiled, one corner of his mouth upturned, deciding not to rise to the double entendre dangling in the air. Instead he said, "There isn't a chance I could talk you into lunch, is there?"

She looked at him again, tilting her head. "Are you serious?" She wasn't having to fight off the telltale Weasley blush.

He nodded. "Of course I am. It's nearly lunch time now." He looked down at his watch. "I was just planning to get some lunch when I decided to stop in here for a minute."

She looked up at the clock with two grinning faces on it. "Well, I can't go out until one of my brothers gets h—"

Fred and George arrived in twin cracks of imploding air, rustling the few papers on the counter and knocking them to the ground.

She bent over to pick them up while the man she had been speaking to went after a stray page. "I do wish you wouldn't do that inside the shop. You always manage to knock something out of place," she grumbled.

"Sorry," they replied, utterly unremorseful. "How was the morning?"

She shrugged and pointed at her sales list, which had self-updated as she made the sales. "See for yourself. There were a couple of big batches of Hogwarts students in around nine or ten, stocking up before the school year started. Sold a lot of the usual stuff—fake wands, Canary Creams, Sucking Suckers, Skiving Snackboxes, the lot. You know the last week of August is always crazy like this."

Fred was looking down at the sheet. "Looks like you managed to sell a couple of the Puffs too."

Ginny leaned her elbows on the counter. She saw that the man who had gone after the paper was standing at a little distance looking at products. "Two girls came in just a little while ago looking at Love Potions. They were too young for them. I convinced them that a Puff was much better than a boyfriend—a boyfriend can break your heart in a week or a month, faster with a love potion. The Puffs will adore these girls for at least a few years."

Fred and George nodded, looking at the sales sheet and seeing what they needed to restock on. One of them would be making products in the back while the other held the fort in the front of the shop. "Can you spare for a while so I can grab some lunch?"

"No worries, Gin," said George.

Fred noticed the fellow standing off to one side, looking at the small selection of Muggle magic tricks. "Can I help you?"

He smiled. "Yes, any of these in particular you'd recommend for a party?"

"The handshake buzzer is worth a laugh, but if you really want to liven up a party I'd try our patented Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. We've got various shapes, sizes, colors, styles—"

"Not today…I'd still like to have a flat left at the end of the party. These look like they'd pack a bit of a punch." He went to the counter and slip the stray piece of parchment on top of the pile. Ginny rang him up at the register. He mouthed, "Lunch?" and she nodded, fighting down a bit of a blush. It wasn't every day someone attractive asked you out for a bite. It felt good. She grabbed her bag and headed for the front door at the same time the stranger did. She called over her shoulder. "I won't be too long."

They started walking down the street and he asked, "Oh, you think you'll be bored with me rather quickly?"

She chuckled. "Hard to say. I don't even know your name yet."

"Surely there's more to know about a person than just their name?" He held the door open for her as they went into a nearby restaurant and pulled out her chair for her. As he sat down, he introduced himself.

* * *

Hermione entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and found George manning the counter. She could hear Fred in the back, singing to himself while he worked. Her was rather flyaway at the moment and she was clearly wearing her work robes. "Is Ginny still here?"

"No, you just missed her, Hermione." He saw the look on her face and added, "She should be back in a while. Just went to grab lunch. Is there something so urgent it can't wait 'til you're both home tonight?"

Hermione braced her hands against the counter and gave a little hop so she could sit on it. "Not urgent I guess, but certainly frustrating."

George looked around and saw that she shop was empty at the moment. Everyone seemed to be having lunch. "Well, you want to tell me about it, or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?"

She rolled her eyes at him but couldn't help the corner of her mouth twitching in a smile just a little. "I made an appointment to talk to the Minister about that ridiculous Pureblood law that passed at the beginning of the month. His secretaries said I couldn't see him until the middle of the month. I showed up to the meeting and was informed that he couldn't make it. I offered to reschedule and, naturally, put my name down under every opening on his schedule from here to the end of September. I figured it would catch his attention. I guess someone must have finally mentioned it to him—more than a week later, I might add—because I got an Owl at work this morning, thanking me for my interest in the issue, but saying that a single meeting, let alone 17 meetings, was really quite unnecessary because the resolution had already been passed, and was looked upon as a kindness to the wizarding community!" She tried to take a deep breath to steady herself, but she had already gathered too much steam and was charging downhill. "I don't understand why more people aren't upset about this? Why isn't there a huge protest outside the Ministry? Why hasn't there been a single word about it in the_ Prophet_? Not one article."

George hugged her from behind and said quietly, "That all?"

She let out a long breath, feeling that her face was already hot with the effort of all this talking. "I think that sums it up, yeah." She turned on the counter, bringing her legs up and crossing them so she was sitting on the counter as if it were the floor.

He looked at her. She was so worked up and she wasn't even being directly affected by this law. "I have a feeling the only people that know about this law are the ones being directly impacted by it right now. I think letters only went out to Pureblood witches and wizards between the ages of 17 and 30 or whatever it is. Parents weren't notified if their children fall within the range. People who were outside the range, or not Pureblood weren't notified."

"That's just ridiculous. It does affect Muggle-borns and Half-bloods too. The Purebloods have to marry somebody before the year is out, and the Ministry says it can't be another Pureblood." She put her elbows on her knees and started to rub her temples for a moment before looking up. "George, what are you going to do?"

He put an arm around her and leaned against the counter. "Don't worry about me, Hermione. I'll figure something out." He lowered his voice to a faux whisper, "Don't tell Fred, but everyone knows I'm the smartest Weasley."

"I heard that!" Fred shouted from the workroom.

Hermione couldn't help laughing.

Fred came out and winked at Hermione. "And to prove I'm the smartest, Weasley…" He got down dramatically on one knee, "Hermione, love, marry me!"

George pushed him over. "I'm smarter."

"I'm better looking!" Fred offered from the ground.

Hermione couldn't help laughing at the pair of them. "Personally, I think Ginny's smarter than both of you."

"But she doesn't have my manly charm!" insisted George.

"Or my dashing good looks," interrupted Fred.

Hermione couldn't help dissolving into laughter as they argued over their various virtues. She knew it was all in jest, but how would she respond if any of the Weasleys asked her before all this was over? She'd barely heard from Ron at all in the past month and he was tremendously quiet on the occasions when she'd gone over for a family dinner at the Weasleys.

* * *

Saturday night found Hermione curled up on the couch with a pizza on table and a movie ready to play. Harry and Ron were supposed to come over for pizza and a movie in a short-while. Ginny was getting ready to go out.

Hermione turned around to take a look at Ginny. She was in a light yellow dress with pale pink flowers that moved as she walked. Her hair was down casually. "You look nice, Ginny. Where are you going tonight?"

"I'm not sure. He said it was a surprise. When are Ron and Harry getting here? I hope to get out of here before they arrive so they don't give me the third degree." She brushed her hair to one side in the mirror.

Hermione sighed. "They should have been here already actually. I'm expecting a last minute cancellation. You've seen how Ron doesn't seem to want to be anywhere near me this month." She smiled at her friend and tried to turn the conversation around. "I'm glad you're going to go out and have some fun. Who is this guy?"

Ginny sat down in the chair across from Hermione. "Well, he just came into the shop on Monday. He's cute. Intelligent. Witty. He invited me out to lunch Monday and he's stopped by the shop a couple of times since then just to see me I think."

She grinned, opening the pizza and taking a slice out. There'd still be plenty left for when the boys arrived and if they didn't…well, everyone likes pizza for breakfast, right? "Well, that all sounds promising. I hope you have a great time. Be careful though."

"I will. Don't worry about me," she said. "The pizza smells good."

Hermione offered her the slice in her hand. "Want a bite?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, I probably shouldn't, I _did_ just brush my teeth." They chatted for a few minutes more before there was a knock at the door. Ginny went to answer it, praying it was her date.

Harry stood in the doorway. "Hey, Gin, Hermione," he said, coming inside.

Hermione smiled, trying to cover her disappointment. "Hi, Harry. Help yourself to some pizza. I guess Ron's not feeling well?"

He sat down on the chair and helped himself to a slice of pizza. "I tried, Hermione. He's gotten really stubborn lately—"

She snorted. "Lately? He's always been stubborn. I hate this. We were finally getting back to a place where things were okay between n us again…" She shook her head and took another bite of pizza. "I put a movie in the player already, but if you want to watch something else, you can look through my cassettes on the shelf."

Ginny was still hanging near the door. "Since I'm up, do either of you want anything to drink?"

They answered yes and she brought out a can of soda for Harry and a bottle of water for Hermione. As Harry took his drink, he looked at her dress and realized she hadn't sat down since he came in. "Are you going to watch the movie with us?"

"Not tonight. I'm going out."

There was a slight pause and then Harry said, "Well, have fun. You look nice."

She smiled. "Thanks, Harry." Fortunately about that time there was another knock on the door. She went to it gratefully, smiling. Her face dropped a little in surprise. "Hey, Ron. Come inside, they're just getting ready to watch something."

He was standing in the doorway, a little hunched, not exactly sure if he should be there, shifting a bit awkwardly. He had a carton of orange juice with him and showed it to Hermione. "Thought I'd bring something," he muttered.

"That's really sweet. There's plenty of room. Come sit with us," Hermione encouraged. She and Harry shared a look of surprise at Ron's arrival, but they weren't going to question it. Ginny settled herself on the arm of the couch next to Hermione and looked at the clock again. He was only a few minutes late, but it seemed much longer.

When there was another knock, she just stared at the door. "Hermione, will you get it? I'm not getting up again unless he's here."

Ron sat up a little. "You have a date?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, mum's taking me out to dinner. Yes, I'm going to dinner with someone, a male someone."

Hermione opened the door.

"Is Ginny Weasley here?"

"I'll see if she's still interested after you've kept her waiting like this…" Hermione said disapprovingly.

Ginny couldn't help smiling as she got up and smoothed her dress. She looked at Harry and Ron, "See you both later." She stepped out into the hallway with her date and closed the door. "You're late."

"I am sorry, but I stopped to get you this." He took a flower out from behind his back, a yellow rose tinged with pink at the tips.

Hermione's last thought as the door shut was the Ginny certainly had found a handsome (if not timely) fellow.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter ended up being longer than I was anticipating. I'd really appreciate any feedback. This is my first time attempting a story with major time lapses like this, or a really ensemble oriented piece. We'll see more of some characters than others I think, but normally I follow one character pretty continuously through just about every day of the story with only occasional peaks elsewhere. Having time lapses like this and following several characters is rather new territory. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please take a minute to review.


	3. September

**Author's Note: **I'm having a lot of fun with this story. I really hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. If you are, please review and let me know what you think! Have a great week.

* * *

**September**

* * *

He looked out the open window idly, glancing down at all the Muggles on their daily business. Merlin, how did they get along without magic? His friend had insisted on opening the window as soon as he'd arrived in the office. "So you've checked your records then?"

Blaise nodded. "Yes, my mother's grandmother was a Muggle-born and apparently since I am her direct descendent that counts enough to get me out of this law. My mother was rather tight-lipped about the whole situation."

"Has she started pushing you yet?"

He shook his head. "Not yet, though she did remind me that both Greengrass girls and Parkinson are available."

Theo looked around in disgust at all the parchment on Blaise's desk. "Is this what you do all day?"

Blaise looked at him, rather aggravated. "I realize that the department of accidents and magical catastrophes isn't exactly glamorous this afternoon—"

"—or any afternoon—"

"—but it's a start. We'll see where things go from there. Are you telling me that things are a party at the apothecary?" Despite being seated while Theo stood, Blaise managed to look at Theo so the other young man felt as if their roles were reversed. "At least my office smells better than the apothecary."

Theo shrugged. "Hey, I won't have to marry Romilda or Millicent. Best of luck to _you_."

Blaise looked up, rather torn between a mild disgust and laughter. "You didn't hear? Millie married some Ravenclaw last year."

"Poor bloke."

They were silent for a short while. "Draco was in a temper the last time I saw him."

"When isn't he? I can't imagine how he manages to pass the time. Work might not be glamorous, but it's something to do other than sitting around the house with your mother all day…" He shuddered.

Blaise glanced at the clock, picking up his quill again and beginning to write. "I really do have to finish this soon. I'm taking off early."

"The apothecary is closed while old Shantle restocks. Where are you going?"

He didn't bother raising his eyes as he responded; he did need to finish this work. "Stopping by a Quidditch practice for a bit."

"I'll tag along if it's alright. Not much else to do."

Blaise raised his eyes this time. "To be frank, I'd rather you didn't. I'd rather your face didn't scare her off. She'll be on a broom, so she'd be able to get away pretty quickly after all."

Theo looked at himself in the reflection of his watch. He wasn't bad looking. Brown hair, a small nose, a medium sized mouth. He might not make a magazine cover, but he'd always considered himself attractive enough. "Are you afraid I'll steal her away?"

Blaise gave a wry grin. "Hardly. I've only seen this girl a few times though. It's not serious, but…there's something about her that I feel is worth pursuing."

The other young man lowered himself into one of the other chairs in the room. It was rather shabby and contrasted with his robes, which were fairly nice…if you could ignore the pungent odor of frog's skin, poisonous snails, and stinksap he'd been working with in the morning.

Blaise scooted his chair back a few inches, wrinkling his nose. "Apparently it's not your face I'd have to worry about scaring her, it's your stench. Don't you have a spell for that?"

Theo shrugged. "I do, but it never seems to last long enough, so I stopped bothering. There's another one that I can do that can last longer, but I have to be consciously keeping it up the whole time like a jinx. It gives me a hell of a headache."

"If you're too lazy to use a spell, at least buy something to spray yourself with. You really do smell vile. I don't want you contaminating me with that stench."

His friend rolled his eyes. "You really are a charmer, Blaise. Good to know how you value you my friendship. If you're going to insult me, the least you could do is make it up to me by telling me about this girl…"

* * *

Draco sat at the desk in what used to be his father's study and looked around at the rolls of parchment his mother had compiled, profiling some of the possible candidates she had picked. She hadn't told him whether any of these girls had contacted her or whether she'd found them. The profiles he was given included no names—she didn't want him making any snap judgments he might regret later, which, he took to mean there were definitely people on the list he didn't think kindly of.

He sighed, staring at the calendar she had fixed to the wall. He was set up with various lunch and dinner "interviews" at the end of the month, arranged personally by his loving mother. She had said she perfectly understood if he wanted to take a step back from the process and let her handle things alone until the pool of candidates had been narrowed down. He smoothed his hair back, thinking about it, unwilling to totally give up control over this decision, but not wanting to make it either. Wouldn't it be easier to simply round all the girls up, invite them over for a party, and see who was still standing at the end of the night?

He glared at the calendar and stood to leave. He had to get out of the manor for a while.

* * *

Neville looked around the yard thoughtfully. He never would have imagined he'd have an apprentice at his age. It wasn't as if he'd been out of school all that long himself. Only a year. It did make a difference having someone around here to help out though, and she seemed quite willing to learn.

He shook himself out of his reverie. With the new contract they had drawn up with the apothecary at Diagon Alley, it was just as well he had some extra help. There'd be plenty that needed doing this year. And he had to admit, it was nice not to have the place quite so empty. His apprentice had agreed to a smaller wage in exchange for a place to stay. "Valerie, why don't we break for lunch? I'll see what we have in the kitchen."

The girl stood up, brushing the dirt off her hands. "I put some sandwiches together this morning. They're on the counter with a spell on the plates to keep them from going stale while we were working."

Neville brushed his own hands off, dislodging as much of the dirt as possible. "That's great. Thanks. Did everything go okay with the dittany?"

She nodded. "Yes, everything was fine with the dittany. I transplanted the seedlings from the heated pots to the ground and didn't lose a single one."

Neville caught something in the girl's voice. "Look, I know you've worked with dittany before, but we're doing this one step at a time, and you're not starting with anything poisonous yet. Healers need sage and ginger and dittany just as much as much as aconite and hellebore. I'll tell you what, after lunch, I'll show you the habitat I'm setting up for the gillyweed. We should finally be getting some in next week from that supplier I found in Greece."

* * *

Hermione stared at the letter in her hand in disbelief. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. It was absolutely ridiculous. She read it and reread it. Surely this had to be some sort of joke. Didn't it?

* * *

"Miss?" The house-elf who had let her in had returned. "Mistress will see you now. This way."

Hermione followed the elf through several rooms and into the backyard, discreetly trying to check the elf for signs of abuse. She didn't see any bruises or burn marks.

There was a blond woman seated at an intricately wrought iron table with matching chairs. The table was set with tea. She looked up at their arrival. "Miss Granger, I'm pleased to see you. I wasn't certain you would come. Please have a seat."

Hermione sank down into one of the metal chairs and found it had a wonderful cushion charm in the seat. "I have to admit, I was surprised to receive your letter." She watched Narcissa Malfoy pouring the tea. Even at this hour the woman was immaculately made up, though Hermione thought there were a few more lines on her face than the last time they were at close quarters.

"What do you take in your tea?"

"Cream, no sugar."

Narcissa prepared the tea and passed it to Hermione before picking up her teacup and regarding her over the rim. "You are a highly intelligent woman by all accounts. You are moderately attractive, and you appear to have a lovely smile. My son needs a challenge." There was a pause so slight, Hermione almost wasn't sure there was one before Narcissa continued, "What do your parents do?"

"They're dentists." She saw a slight furrow of incomprehension on the older woman's brow. "Muggle Healers who take care of people's teeth."

"Oh. Do you see them often?"

Hermione was a little startled. "Not very. I work a lot and live in London with Ginny. I see all of the Weasleys fairly often."

The house-elf arrived then bearing a large breakfast tray, covered with an assortment of fruit, toast, jams, eggs, and bacon. The little elf placed a plate food and a bowl of fruit in front of each them and then left quickly.

"What do you enjoy in your spare time?"

"Reading and writing mostly, though I suppose I do indulge in a bit of television."

Narcissa nodded. "What is it you do for a living, Miss Granger?"

She took a bite of her toast. "I study spell interactions. We really don't know enough about how different spells and potions interact with one another. For example, using a skin tightening potion and an energy boosting charm has actually been known on rare occasions to cause skin to crack like a broken teapot. Cosmetic spells seem to suffer particularly badly when the interact with certain healing spells."

Narcissa's face almost grew a fond smile. "I remember when my grandmother developed a rash from the nightshade bushes lining the house. There was a potion to take care of it of course, but it interfered with the spells she used on her hair. She wouldn't come downstairs for days—her hair had gone frizzy and was streaked with ginger. My cousin managed to sneak in and take a picture while she was sleeping. He tripped on his way out and she hexed him. She removed all of the bones in his feet."

"That sounds terrible."

Narcissa nodded. "I'm sure it was. I've heard regrowing bones is tremendously painful."

Hermione nodded, finishing her bowl of fruit and taking a sip of her tea. "Harry had to do it once in second year. I didn't envy him."

Somewhere in the manor a clock chimed briefly. "It's quarter to 8. You said you start work on the hour?"

"Oh, yes, I do."

"I'll see you out then." Narcissa stood, smoothing her robes, and started towards the house.

Hermione followed, a crease appearing between her brows. "Mrs. Malfoy, I haven't had the opportunity to ask you the questions I came to ask."

"Well, I'd like to schedule another chat, just the two of us, so I can get to know you better. Would you like to take the network to work or do you usually Apparate?"

Hermione wasn't a tremendous fan of the Floo network, but it wouldl probably be faster than walking beyond the Apparation wards of the manor. She wondered in passing whether the Malfoys had to pass beyond the wards or if they'd been set to allow family members through. "Floo would be excellent, thank you."

Narcissa guided Hermione to the foyer where she had come in. A flick of her wand lit the fire and she handed Hermione a crystal vase of green powder. "I'll be in touch shortly. Please return the response card with which time is most convenient for you."

Hermione blinked for a moment, pausing with her hand halfway to the vase. "I'm not sure you understand why I agreed to meet you today."

"I understand entirely. I would still like to see you again soon."

Hermione nodded politely and smiled. "I'll be in touch then."

* * *

Sighing, Ron put his robes on and checked his wand in the holster at his belt. The leather was old and cracked, but still holding together for now. He got down on his hands and knees to rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor for his sneakers and put them on. His flat was too quiet. It wasn't the one he and Hermione had lived in together (briefly). Ginny had moved into that flat with her, and Ron had gotten his own place.

While on the floor he saw a crumpled up piece of parchment that had missed the waste bin. He smoothed it out before realizing what it was and crumpling it up again. Seriously, a year to find someone to marry, and the Ministry putting blood restrictions on top of it? What the bloody hell were they thinking?

He had decided the best way to deal with this was to just stop thinking about it. If he couldn't make it work with Hermione, who was there to say that he could make a relationship work with anybody else? Anyway, Harry had assured him that Hermione was doing everything she could to try and figure out a way to get rid of this law. Hermione had never let them down before.

* * *

The card from Narcissa Malfoy arrived at Hermione's office three days after their first meeting. Hermione thought it was a rather unnecessarily formal calling card, bearing both the Black family crest as well as the Malfoy crest in opposite corners. It was Narcissa's personal card.

There were three dates and times on the card, just as the woman had indicated there would be. All of the times were set for the following week, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, 7 a.m., 10:30 a.m., and noon respectively. Next to each time was a location. The first two times were listed for Malfoy Manor. The last was for a café Hermione had never heard of. After thinking about it for a moment and trying to decide if she really wanted to subject herself to another meeting with Narcissa, Hermione ticked off a yes to Thursday's invitation and sent it back.

There was a knock on her door and a head of curly blonde hair appeared between the door and frame. "Hermione, the boils have gotten bigger. I didn't think the reaction between essence of murtlap and the swelling solution he used…"

She stood up quickly. "Zach, are you sure?"

"Positive." He grimaced. "I really hadn't wanted to take a look at them."

She rubbed her temples. "You _did_ take a look at them though, didn't you?" Zach really was too squeamish sometimes.

"Yes, the fellow picked up his robes and bent over right in the front office. He was pretty hysterical. Annie got pretty hysterical too."

"If she's going to be that squeamish, then she doesn't belong in our office. Didn't you warn her that people sometimes arrive looking…unusual? And her name isn't Annie, it's Amy. I know she's new, but make an effort to learn her name. It's common courtesy. Fill out the report, get a list of any and all other potions and spells he says he's used, and then start running tests to see if there's anything else he _forgot_ to mention. Murtlap essence on those shaving cuts combined with the enlargement potion shouldn't be producing this big of a reaction. I'll be along in a minute."

Zach nodded. He knew his job. He slipped out, and Hermione could hear his voice through the open doorway. "Mr. McLaggen, if you'll follow me into one of the rooms down the hall here, we'll do our best to get you straightened out."

Hermione shook her head. Now there'd be Amy's nerves to soothe on top of everything else. Hopefully the girl would simply get over it. In the meantime, they need to figure out what exactly the boils were filled with and what other things might be in his system. She could make a few guesses.

* * *

Harry was waiting at the Minister's office. The man wasn't in yet. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet while trying to look relaxed. Why did the Minister need three secretaries in his office? He didn't like the way the women were sneaking glances at him. There had to be some way to make the Minister see how ridiculous that Pureblood marriage law was. Why couldn't the man see it? Why did good intentions so often go awry?

He let his mind wander; he was thinking about what else needed doing at the werewolf group home. The gardens were coming along well and the building was strong. Being as self-sufficient as possible was important. They still needed Mediwitches and a Potions master to brew the wolfsbane potion. In the mean time, the few residents of the place tore themselves up against the walls during the full moon. It didn't have to be that way.

Harry had been waiting in the office for nearly an hour and drank three cups of tea before there was any word or sign from the Minister. The man came in looking quite pleased and exclaimed how glad he was to see him. Harry's mouth pulled in a thin line. "I'm glad you were able to make it today, Minister. I was hoping that we could have a little chat."

The man put his arm around Harry's shoulder and led him into the office, calling over his shoulder to his assistants to bring sandwiches. "Of course, of course, Harry. I've told you before, call me Jerry. Anything I can do for you? How are things going with our lupine friends?"

It was all he could do not to smack the jovial expression off the man's face. He hadn't been to the house since the first resident had arrived. "Things would be better if we could get some more support from the Ministry. Specifically we need Mediwitches and a first class Potions Master, preferably before the next full moon. But that's not what I came to talk to you about today, Jerry."

"Oh? What is it then? I have to say, I think things are going splendidly. Plenty of people in and out of Diagon Alley, lots of enthusiasm for league Quidditch, and full classes at Hogwarts." He smiled, and seemed sincerely happy, leaning back in his chair.

Harry shook his head, wondering how in Merlin's name this man had ever become Minister of Magic. He decided not to take a seat, instead standing with his hands behind his back and looking down at the other man. "It's about the marriage law the office of Threat Assessment passed in August."

Jerry raised his hand. "It was rather brilliant, wasn't it? Just imagine how much more peaceful things will be in 10 or 15 years with everyone on an equal standing."

Harry's eyebrows came together. "No one is unequal now. Muggle-born, Pureblood, half-blood—no one group is better than the other."

"No, no, of course not, but perceptions can affect the way things are done. And Purebloods perceive themselves as being better and so act as though they're above everyone, which does stack the odds in their favor. If there cease to be any Purebloods, then there's nothing to worry about." The man seemed earnest, but at the same time, like he was explaining something to a child—as though he were the adult who couldn't possibly be wrong, and as soon as Harry was old enough, he'd understand.

Harry decided maybe he ought to sit down before he started. He took a deep breath.


	4. October

**October**

Hermione settled into her chair, setting out a notebook on the table in case she forgot any of her questions or wanted to record the answers. "Mrs. Malfoy, I hope you don't take this the wrong way or anything, but you don't seem very upset about the impact this law is having on your son." This was one of the questions she'd forgotten to include in her last meeting with Narcissa. This time, she was prepared. She wouldn't let the conversation get derailed with whatever the woman had in mind.

Narcissa regarded her across the table. Their table was a private one in an out of the way corner of the garden café they were at, shielded from other patrons by beautiful foliage. It was the sort of place that didn't bother to list prices on its menu. If you knew about it, you could afford it. A handsome waiter took their orders and left again. Narcissa's attention returned to her guest. "Let me ask you a question. What do you know about snakes?"

She blinked. It wasn't a question she'd been expecting. "Literally or figuratively?"

"Literally."

She racked her brains for science lessons from a lifetime ago. "Snakes are reptiles. They're cold blooded. They shed their skin. They—"

The blond woman nodded, show the barest hint of a smile. "Snakes shed their skins. It's part of how they survive. A few years ago Lucius and I thought that we were in place to leave our son the world. We thought he had the favor of the right people, and that we could rest assured knowing he'd do well for himself with our assistance. The seasons change, Miss Granger, and what was once the best means to ensure my son's survival and prosperity no longer is. And so it is that I shed my skin and adapt to the new way of things. In either case, my goal is still the same. I want my son to be happy, healthy, and prosperous."

Hermione blinked. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but this hadn't been the answer at all.

Narcissa sighed. "I love my son, Miss Granger, as I am certain your parents love you. You needn't be surprised."

"It's not that, it's just…" She decided to speak candidly. "Ever since we were eleven, I have heard your son express his disgust at what he professed to be my dirty blood and my overall inferiority as a human being. If he thinks that, and if you think that, I don't understand how you could possibly be so blasé about a law that's going to bind him to someone you think is inferior for the rest of his life."

"Do _you_ think you're inferior, Miss Granger?"

"Of course I don't. Why would I? I received top marks in our year. I have very good friends who care about me. I have a stable job."

Narcissa nodded again, looking at her thoughtfully. "I'm sure you also think you're intellectually and morally superior to Draco—which you may be. As a person you think you're superior to Draco. I'm sure you could come up with a number of people you believe you're superior to. People who lack your intellect, or whose morals are different from your own. Is it so strange to think that Draco might wish to believe himself superior to someone for some reason? Don't you naturally want to be the best?"

She thought back to all of the hours spent studying for her exams, writing and rewriting essays. "That's not the same."

"It's not? You entered our world at age 11. By many people's standards, including my son's, you were inferior because of your parentage. By other people's standards, you were inferior because of your age—few people think much of an eleven year old. An eleven year old doesn't know much about the world or themselves. You wanted to be liked didn't you? You wanted to be the best?"

Hermione nodded silently, waiting to see where exactly the woman was going with this.

"So you studied hard, so the teachers liked you. And you made friends. I don't know what it took to make them like you. Maybe you were funny. Maybe you helped them with their homework."

_Maybe I lied to keep them front getting in trouble the night the troll attacked me_, she thought. _But they saved me from it first._

Narcissa tilted her head slightly, ignoring the brief pause. "Draco did what he could to be liked. We donated trifling things like broomsticks to the House team, and he did his best to establish himself as a quick wit who was unafraid of going after others. The best defense is a good offense. The two of you really aren't as different as you might think."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to that, other than with a flat out denial. She really didn't see it. She and Malfoy were _not_ alike. She was saved from having to make any sort of immediate response by the arrival of the handsome waiter with their lunches. He smiled at them charmingly and asked if they needed anything else, when they replied that they didn't, he slipped away quietly. Figuring she didn't have anything to lose, Hermione brought up something she remembered Malfoy saying when they ran into each other shortly after notification about the Marriage Law had gone out. "Are you really interviewing girls to find him a wife? Is that why you wanted to meet with me? I did already tell you I'm not interested."

Narcissa did not seem the least bit ruffled by these questions. She took a delicate bite of her lunch and a sip of her drink before responding. "As long as this law is in place, I must assume that Draco will be compelled to marry within the year. I don't necessarily think that would be a bad thing for him—as I've told you, my son needs something in his life. As it is now, I feel his life is rather incomplete. He seems largely uninterested in taking an active role in these proceedings. Rather than leave the choice to the Ministry, I feel it is my duty to aid him in choosing the best possible partner for him."

Hermione's pencil remained poised above her notebook as she deliberated what to say. "Wouldn't your energies be better spent trying to repeal this law? Surely you still carry some clout in the community?" As soon as the last sentence was out of her mouth she wished she could take it back. With Lucius in prison, of course the Malfoy name didn't carry the same power it once had.

The older woman smiled a little bitterly. "If I were to protest this law, why do you suppose people would think I was protesting it? What is the very thing you said about my son's feelings about you?"

Hermione nodded, taking the woman's point. If Narcissa or any of the other (former?) Death Eaters spoke out against the law, it would only look as though they were refusing to let their old prejudices die—exactly what the law was about. "So it has to be someone like me who says it?"

Narcissa's smile looked slightly tired. "I didn't say that."

She sighed, trying to keep her temper, but she was starting to feel vexed. "You think this might be good for Draco," his name felt strange on her lips "but what about all the other people affected by this law? How many people will be coerced into marriages they don't want with people who don't like them? Even just with the Weasleys five of them are mandated to get married this year if this law doesn't get repealed." She tried to keep the distress out of her voice. "Harry and Ginny don't want to get married. Whatever might have been between them at some point is long since gone—war changes people. But he'd marry her anyway, to keep her from having to marry someone she hated. It wouldn't make either of them happy."

The blond woman tilted her head slightly. "There are worse things in this life than that. The two of them are friends at least."

"That's not the point. The point is that none of these witches and wizards would be considering getting married at their age if it weren't for this law. They're not ready and it's not what's best for them in the long-term or even the short-term." She took a bite of her food to stop herself from drawing attention to their table by becoming too loud.

Lunch continued for a bit longer with Narcissa turning the conversation aside, discussing pleasantries and asking more questions about Hermione's life. After the woman had instructed the waiter to charge the meal to the Malfoy account, they got up to leave. Hermione couldn't resist one last question. "What will you do if M—Draco doesn't want to marry the girl you choose for him?"

Narcissa Malfoy smiled, rather like a cat who knows the canary is theirs. "Oh, Draco is a smart boy. He will."

LINEBREAK

A week or so after her lunch with Narcissa, Hermione came home from work one day to find Ginny sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and looking absolutely wretched. Her mouth was set in a frown around the spoon she had in it. In the dim light, Hermione couldn't tell for sure if Ginny's eyes were puffy from crying. At any rate, all of this was seriously out of character for her friend. "Gin, what's wrong?"

She looked up at her friend and gestured to the extra spoon she'd already gotten out for her.

Hermione settled on the couch next to Ginny and dug into the ice cream a bit and took a bite. She squeezed Ginny's hand with her free one.

Ginny let out a long breath and finally turned to Hermione. "It's stupid. I don't even know what came over me, but I got to thinking about things and it just made me miserable." Hermione nodded understandingly and waited for a further response. Eventually the redheaded girl slumped back against the couch and continued. "The guy I've been seeing—I know I still haven't really introduced you guys yet—he's smart, and funny, and charming, and sweet, and you've seen how gorgeous he is. I really like him. I wasn't planning on getting serious—Merlin knows what's going to happen with this bloody law—I just figured we'd go out a few times, and we had a lot of fun." She paused. "But I think I'm falling for him bad, Hermione. And if we can't do anything about this law…Either we'll _have_ to marry in nine months because we are the right blood types, or I'll have to marry someone else because we're the wrong ones. It's a no win situation." She leaned her head against Hermione's shoulder.

She squeezed her friend's hand. "We will get rid of this law. I promise."

"I haven't asked about Blaise's blood status, because honestly, I don't want to know. It doesn't matter to me. It shouldn't matter to the Ministry."

Hermione was still holding her friend's hand and rested her cheek on the top of her head. She sat up, startled. "Blaise? Blaise Zabini?"

They exchanged looks. "You know him?"

She nodded. "Not well, I'll admit. I certainly didn't recognize him the few times I've been here when he's picked you up. He was in my year. Slytherin."

Ginny shrugged. "I suspected he was in Slytherin since I didn't recognize him from the DA. Our houses were one of the things we decided not to discuss. We've adults now—we're not in Hogwarts anymore. It'd be nice to think that we've all moved passed house feuds. I'm sure he knows I was a Gryffindor. I'm sure Ron and Harry will take this _real_ well if they ever meet him," she said sarcastically. She paused. "You're not annoyed about it are you? I didn't think you would be, but I hadn't mentioned his name before now all the same…"

"I thought you knew me better than that, Ginny. Of course it doesn't bother me."

She finally pried herself off the couch. "Unless you want more of this, I'll put it away," she said, holding out the half empty pint. Hermione gestured that she didn't and Ginny went to put it away. "If it doesn't bother you, would you mind coming out with Blaise and me sometime? He said his friend Theo has been itching to get out for a while."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "A double date?"

Ginny responded from the kitchen where she was looking for something more or less suitable to eat for dinner. "It doesn't have to be a real date. I've met him once or twice. He seems nice enough."

The brunette sighed, getting up and joining Ginny in the kitchen to put some sort of dinner together for the two of them. "Alright. It's not like I've got anything else to do. Ron and Harry hardly see me anymore."

LINEBREAK

Neville's business was thriving. He kept busy and hardly thought about the law that had passed that summer until he got the invitation to the wedding. The sun had gone down and he was sitting in his office at home, looking at it. The paper was rather heavy, with spinning enchanted flowers painted on it. Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnegan.

It seemed rather soon to him, but he shrugged. If they wanted to do it, good for them. Life was too short not to spend with the people you care about. He rummaged around on his desk for his calendar and marked off the 30th of November.

Glancing at his stacks of parchment with orders and dates and suppliers, he realized he wasn't going to get anything else done tonight. It wasn't too late yet. He left the office and grabbed his cloak as he Flooed to St. Mungo's.

Most of the Medi-Witches on the night staff new him by sight, and he had no trouble getting to the ward he wanted. "Hi, mum, dad."

LINEBREAK

Fred and Ginny were in the shop while George was working in the back. She looked at the clock, knowing it had to be nearly time for lunch. Blaise was going to come get her before her Quidditch practice.

There weren't any customers in the shop at the moment—Fred was working on sorting out the mail orders that had come in, largely from Hogwarts students. Ginny watched as Blaise came in and chose one of the Muggle magic tricks from the aisle, as he frequently did when he visited the shop. She was sure he must have all of them by now. As he was paying for his purchase, he leaned across the counter, smiling at her. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

She grinned. "Sure thing. Fred, I'm taking my lunch break," she called over her shoulder, already a dozen feet beyond the counter.

Fred looked up just as his sister was exiting the store. George had come out as well, "Did she go off with that bloke again?"

"I think so. I wasn't paying attention"

George's eyes narrowed. "Do you think we need to have a _talk_ with him?"

"We're not savages like Ron. Let's just keep an eye on him. I'm sure Ginny can handle herself."

His brother agreed. "True. And he buys those stupid Muggle tricks every time he comes in. He must really like her."

Fred finally turned to look at his brother. "Merlin's left buttock, what have you been testing?"

He blinked. "Just the sneezing powder that makes you sneeze out miniature daisies. Why? It seemed to be working pretty well."

His twin snickered. "Your entire nose is blue and it's twice the size of mine."

LINEBREAK

Draco was visiting Theo in the apothecary. It was not in his top three for favorite places to visit in Diagon Alley, but Balise had already chased him out of his office. Blaise's office was boring anyway. The Master of the Apothecary was out at the moment, so Draco felt free to lounge about the place without any pretense of buying anything. If only it didn't smell so disgusting.

"How do you stand it all day?"

"You get used to it," Theo said, clearly agitated. "What are you doing here anyway? I'm supposed to be working."

Draco looked at the shrivelfigs Theo was mincing. They seemed to be trying to escape from him. "I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink tonight. I need to get out of the house. I think Mother is having girls over again. I don't know how she expects me to settle down at my age, especially with anyone she might choose."

"Sorry, can't," Theo said, not sounding particularly sorry.

"Can't?" he echoed. "Why not?"

The slightest of smirks appeared on Theo's face. "I have a date tonight—one my mother didn't have to set me up on."

Draco stared at his friend disbelievingly. "No you don't."

He slid the minced shrivelfigs off the cutting board and into a jar, sealing it. He reached for the next ingredient he needed. "I do. I'm going out with a friend of that girl Blaise is seeing."

"Blaise is seeing someone?"

Theo snorted a bit inelegantly. "Yeah, since August, mate. Your head has just been too far up your own arse to notice."

"That one? Still?" He had a vague recollection of Blaise blowing him off a few times in the past couple of months, saying he had a date. He hadn't realized it was the same girl all this time. "Is she hot?"

His friend grinned. "Oh yeah. Gorgeous."

"What about yours? Any good?"

The apprentice shrugged glancing down at the dja root. "I don't know who it is, but Blaise says she's not bad. Look, if you don't get out of here, I'll never be finished up in time to get the stink of this place off me before going out."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not going home."

Theo was agitated. He and Blaise were friends with Draco but sometimes their patience ran thin. Was it really any wonder that he was bored on a Friday night? "See if Vince or Greg want to go out with you. Or go get a job or something. Or resign yourself to spending the next nine months at whatever parties your mother wants to throw for you, and the next 30 years at whatever parties she and your wife want to have," he said. "Seriously, Draco, you don't _do_ anything. Man up and take charge of your life already."

Draco tried to come up with a response, but there wasn't any. Even if his mother didn't want to see him married off safely, the Ministry did. Clearly Blaise and Theo were getting sick of him. What else was he to do?

The other boy set down his knife and looked at Draco. "You know Blaise and I are still your mates. But we're not Vince and Greg. If you want someone to tell you you're Salazar's gift to witches and walk two steps behind you forever, go look up Vince and Greg. If you want to actually do something with your life, you know where Blaise and I are."

Draco simply nodded. He was going to have to reevaluate a few things, and quickly before everything slipped out of his control. As Draco was leaving the shop, Theo called after him.

"Blaise and I are going to a Quidditch game Sunday—it's just one of the junior teams. We'll be by your place to pick you up at one, yeah?"

He looked at his friend of his shoulder and nodded, letting just a hint of a smile appear at the corner of his mouth. It was good to know they hadn't totally given up on him.

LINEBREAK

Hermione and Ginny were dressed and waiting for their dates. Hermione fidgeted a bit, adjusting her dress. It was a dark blue, fairly modest knee-length dress, with just a bit of a V at the front. It was just so unusual for her to wear a dress. She'd even put on heals in the spirit of dressing up—she hadn't been willing to do anything to her hair though and it was left to its own devices, surrounding her head in ever increasing volume. "Are you ready, Ginny?"

Ginny's hair was pulled back away from her face, and her black dress was a little more flirty and fun than Hermione's. "Just about. Don't worry. They'll be here soon."

"I'm not worried," Hermione said, just a bit too quickly.

She paused. "This is the first date you've been on since things with Ron didn't work out, isn't it? I didn't even think about that. If you want to cancel…"

Hermione waved her away. "No, it's fine. We'll all go out and have a nice time." It wasn't long before there was a knock at the door. Hermione felt the butterflies twitch in her stomach. She only had vague recollections of Blaise. She wasn't sure what friend he was bringing with him tonight, but she prayed it wasn't Malfoy, or Crabbe, or Goyle. Oh Merlin. Maybe he had a nice Ravenclaw friend?

Ginny opened the door and greeted their visitors warmly. She kissed Blaise, and when they parted, he held her at arm's length. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned. "Not bad yourself. Blaise, Hermione. Hermione, Blaise."

Hermione came forward and shook his hand, nodding. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too. Gr—Hermione, this is Theo. Theo, Hermione," Blaise said, looking between the two of them.

There might have briefly been an unreadable expression on Theo's face, but if it was there, it was only for moment, and soon he was polite and smiling. "We all had potions together, didn't we? It's good to see you."

Hermione smiled. She didn't know Theo Nott very well, but she didn't have any particular memories of him tormenting her, so it was as good of a place to start as any. "Likewise. And yes, we did. I remember you being rather good at it."

"Not that Snape ever noticed," he added.

She acquiesced. "Well, no, but he was generally rather busy praising Malfoy, and making Neville so nervous that there'd never be any chance for him to make his potion right."

Blaise looked around at the other three. Things seemed to be going smoothly enough. "Shall we get going?"

Hermione smiled. "Let's."

As the two couples walked down the hallway, Theo said, rather belatedly, "You very nice tonight, G—Hermione."

"Thank you. So do you. I'm a little surprised to see you both in Muggle clothes."

Theo shrugged. "We thought going to a Muggle restaurant would be a nice change. Blaise says there's a nice one close enough to walk to so your hair doesn't get mussed by Floo travel—I know a lot of girls hate that."

Hermione blew a few strands of hair out of her face. "I'm not sure mine could get much worse."

LINEBREAK

Draco had put his mind to the problem for over a week now with little success. He didn't doubt that his mother might be able to Owl someone at the Ministry and find some one position or other in a windowless office, but he didn't want to do that. That would be worse than his present existence of trying to find ways to fill the days.

He walked along Diagon Alley, letting his gaze drift over the shops. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of working in one. The "customer is always right" routine was really only worth participating in when he was the customer. He loathed the idea of being a Ministry drone at a desk all day. He might be able to get onto a Quidditch team…if he trained hard for the next 8 months until the next bout of tryouts.

He paused outside of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, but didn't go in. If it weren't for the fact that it involved Weasleys, he could see himself enjoying working somewhere like that. He certainly had a few wicked ideas that would be worth trying out.

Draco moved on, continuing down the road. He passed by Gringotts. He didn't want to spend his days counting someone else's gold. His spellwork was good. Did he have what it took to be a curse breaker? It would keep him from ending up behind a desk.

He snorted at the idea of himself as a member of Magical Law Enforcement or in the Auror Department. It might be worth applying just to see the look on Moody's face.

He settled in at the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, sitting in a corner at the back. He stayed out for a while, watching people come and go, wrapped up a bit in his own thoughts. He saw Potter and the Weasel come in at one point, clearly a little tense. He wondered idly where Granger was if she wasn't with her little pet trolls.

Granger. Had she made any progress on that stupid law? Or had she given up?

He ordered a shot of something strong and downed it before going home to face his mother's latest rundown of potential wives. She'd have her lists and want to show him. He didn't want to hear it.

LINEBREAK

The secretary to the head of the Wizengamot looked at the letters the Ministry had received. Dozens of them complaining about the marriage law. Most of them were from Hermione Granger, but the odd letter here or there was from some young boy or girl who didn't want to be tied down. Several of the letters were from wizards and witches who were already in established relationships and were protesting the law because they were already in a relationship with someone that the new law wouldn't let them marry.

She knocked on the door of the Head's office. "Sir, I really think you should take a look at these."

"What is it?"

"It's about the law that was passed in August…"

"I don't want to hear anything else from Hermione Granger," he said gruffly.

The young woman stepped forward and put the letters on his desk. "None of these are from Ms. Granger, sir. I've left those in the other room. These are all from other people who feel the law will be impacting their lives in a negative fashion."

He stared up at her a moment and then sighed. "I'll take a look at them Monday."


	5. November

**Author's Note: **I'm really enjoying where this story is going and having a lot of fun writing it. I hope you're enjoying it too—please let me know. Is it too disjointed with the short sections? It's a bit different from other stories I've written.

* * *

**November (Part I)**

* * *

Harry was sitting on his sofa when Hermione arrived with takeout, knocking once or twice before he called out for her to come in.

"Well, you look positively miserable," she said, setting the containers down on his coffee table. "What's wrong? Bad day at work?"

He ran his hands through his hair and pointed at a stack of parchment on his coffee table. "Those. It was only a couple before now, but the past few weeks there have been a lot more."

She sat down in the chair across from him, gesturing to the pile.

He waved his hand, indicating she could pick up whatever she liked. He chose to pick up the container of lemon chicken.

Hermione picked up the first letter in the stack. "Romilda Vane is writing you love letters?"

"Oh, it's worse than that. I swear I think she's following me. Go ahead, look at the others. It's not just her." He rummaged for a plastic fork in the take out bag and couldn't find one. Inspecting his hands for relative cleanliness, and, finding them acceptable, took a piece of chicken from the carton and ate it. "There's letters from girls I've never even met. I remember you saying this thing was going to start affecting the non-Purebloods as well, but Merlin, I didn't see it coming."

"_Pansy_ is writing to you? Pansy Parkinson?"

He shrugged. "If that's what the bottom of the letter says. What am I going to do, Hermione? Any one of them could try and slip something into one of my meals if I eat out, or who knows what." He shuddered. "Slytherins."

Hermione saw his fingers going back into the container and just prevented herself from rolling her eyes. Parchment still in hand, she went to the kitchen to grab a couple of forks and dropped one in his lap. "Slytherins aren't all bad. It's possible to go out and have a tolerable time with some of them." She settled back on the chair, picking up one of the other cartons.

Her friend paused. "Have you been out with a Slytherin? Are you getting these sorts of letters too?"

She shook her head. She was grateful she wasn't getting any letters from strangers wanting to marry her just because she was famous and they were backed into a corner. "No, I mean well, yes."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the sofa.

Hermione pushed her hair behind her ears and found herself speaking rather quickly. "I did go out with someone a couple of weeks ago—just as friends. It's the first time I've been out since Ron and I broke up. It was nice. They're not all scum. And no, I'm not getting sheaves of letters like you are. I'm not Harry Potter," she said, a bit teasingly. "Narcissa Malfoy keeps contacting me. I've already told her I'm not interested in becoming a Malfoy, but it's interesting to see things from her prospective. She knows he makes stupid decisions and so she is quite happy to make better decisions on his behalf."

Harry snorted, shaking his head and handing her the lemon chicken and taking the beef and peppers to try. "It's not just Slytherins I'm getting letters from. There are some others in here I think are Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws."

"What, no Gryffindors yet?"

He rolled his eyes. "Have you gotten the invite for Seamus and Lavender's wedding yet?"

"Yeah. I can't believe they're doing this now. We're going to get that law repealed."

Harry shrugged. "I haven't had much luck with the Minister. I don't know how he doesn't see it, but he really doesn't seem to see it. He thinks that a few hundred people getting married sooner than they would have normally is a small price to pay for ending prejudice in our world."

Hermione shook her head sadly. What was her world coming to anymore? Harry was getting stalked by girls who only wanted to marry him because he was famous and had the right blood type. Hermione hardly saw Ron anymore, though Harry said Ron was really busy with his Auror training. It was supposed to be awfully grueling. And of course while she was opposing this stupid law with all she was worth, there were people like Malfoy's mother who thought that it could be a good idea. Or who at least wouldn't oppose it.

* * *

Alastor Moody's magical eye roved around the room, checking out his dark detectors of various sorts while he looked at the paperwork on his desk. Of all the things that would have ever crossed his desk, he would not have expected this one.

He eyed the page suspiciously, checking it for any sign of a curse or jinx that might be activated if he set his quill to the page. It seemed safe.

So that boy really wanted to become an Auror?

Judging from his Owls, he wasn't stupid. If he had an ulterior motive…well whatever it was couldn't be worth the torture of the three years of training.

He signed his name at the bottom of the page and set it in the approval tray, where it promptly folded itself into a more aerodynamic shape and took off for another office to be processed.

His face was grim. _Let's see if you even survive a week of training with me. I'll be taking a personal interest,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Harry slid into his seat at the table with Ron, looking a bit put out.

"What's wrong, mate? Another one get you?"

"I think I gave her the slip."

Ron just shook his head. "Which one was it?"

His friend just groaned. "I don't know. I couldn't tell. I'm so sick of being followed. I hate the thought of going out wearing my dad's cloak, but I might have to start doing it."

Ron pushed the drink he'd gotten Harry over to him and took a sip of his own. "Other than that, how things?" he asked, shifting a bit.

"The same, I guess," Harry said.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "And Hermione? Have you seen her?"

Harry bristled, taking a swig of his drink. "You really ought to see her yourself, Ron. I think she's okay that things didn't work out with you two. She's had time to get over it. I think she wants to just be friends already."

"The law—"

"—is no excuse for avoiding her," Harry said firmly. "Don't look at me like that. I'm sure Ginny has already told you the same thing, or if she hasn't the twins have. We're working on that stupid law. It'll get fixed."

Ron hoped his red face wasn't visible in the dim light of the Leaky Cauldron, but to be on the safe side, he turned his head suddenly. "Is that Parkinson over there?"

He shifted in his seat, trying to look without being seen. "I don't know. I'll get out of here just in case. But, seriously, Ron, just talk to her. Hermione, that is. Not Parkinson." He threw a couple of coins on the table for his drink and made his way out of the pub as quickly and unobtrusively as he could.

Ron sat and sulked. He got what he wanted; Harry had stopped lecturing him. But now he was back to a boring night alone. It would have been more interesting if Parkinson _had_ come in chasing Harry down.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting in the study while two house-elves juggled lists of names as she called out for them. She smoothed her violet dress under her silky fingers. It really was a brilliant idea. She wondered why she hadn't thought of this before, but she supposed she must have just been focusing too heavily on Draco. She did have her thoughts about which girls she thought most appropriate for her son. All the same, she knew how stubborn he could be. It might be wise to have some element of romance in all her plotting. Nothing could make a girl fall in love like dancing, and Draco was a superb dancer.

She paused. Perhaps it would be better not to have any competition for him. She pursed her lips, considering. She could invite only non-Purebloods to the soirée. Then the other young men wouldn't be eligible to abscond with the young ladies, and all of the ladies would be potential matches for Draco.

Still, if she wanted to do the greatest amount of good, she ought to invite as many Pureblood boys as possible, to help them find a girl to settle down with.

"Draco," she called out, seeing him passing by.

With a sigh, her son stuck his head into the study. "What, Mother? I'm running late for an appointment at the Ministry."

Her eyebrows tilted down a little in a slight frown, not quite sure how to process that declaration. "I'm planning a party for December. Tell your friends to check their calendars and see which dates they might be available."

He smoothed his robes, glancing down at his watch. "Yes, Mother. I really have to be going." He was just starting to walk away when his mother asked a question.

"Why are you going to the Ministry?"

"I'm getting a job." He slipped off down the hallway before she could respond or get out of her seat to follow him. He smiled to himself. He had a feeling he was going to regret this, but at least he'd be getting out of the manor and doing something for a change. All the time spent at home lately had actually made him miss Hogwarts of all things. Today all he had to do was fill out some paperwork, but it was a start. Besides, he always enjoyed getting the last word over his mother.

* * *

Hermione and Ginny were at the Fortescue's having ice cream. It seemed like an excellent way to end the week. Ron had sent an owl at the beginning of the week asking if she and Ginny wanted to do something this weekend with he and Harry. He wasn't specific as to what, but at least he was trying to reach out as a friend, and that in itself was comforting. It was a big step up from avoidance. She might not want to date him, but they had been friends for a long time.

"When we finish up here, we've got to get dresses for Lavender and Seamus's wedding. I'm sure we can find something reasonably priced," Ginny said.

The brunette sighed. "Is that really necessary? Can't I just wear that dress I wore a few weeks ago when we went out with Blaise and Theo? Or my dress robes?"

Ginny shook her head and pointed her spoon at her friend, nearly losing a drop of ice cream. "It's Lavender's wedding. You're just lucky she hasn't asked you to be a bridesmaid or you'd have to wear something she picked out."

"She did ask. I ran into her yesterday."

"Did you say no?"

"No, she kind of cornered me. I said yes."

Ginny shook her head again. "Then I don't know why you're going on about wanting to wear your own dress robes. She gets to pick out what you're going to wear—I'm sure you'll be getting an owl soon to go and get fitted."

Hermione sighed. "You're sure that's the way it's done with wizarding weddings? I was hoping it was different."

"I'm sure. I want to get a dress, but I can see you're in no mood to do it today. We can come back another time." The girls finished their ice cream in silence, heading back to their flat shortly after. There wasn't much to say. They could talk about it lightheartedly, the pain or pleasure of getting a dress and getting dressed up and going to a party where their friends were going to declare their love for each other and commit to each other for life. Ultimately they couldn't help but wonder: would Lavender and Seamus be getting married so soon if it hadn't been for the law?

* * *

Draco was panting with effort. It was his first day of training and he was more out of shape since the last time he'd been on a Quidditch team than he thought. He was being tested today, alone. He was dodging spells left and right, occasionally grunting as one nicked his elbow or his shoulder as he failed to move fast enough. He needed a long soak in a mineral hot spring after this. Why on earth had the old codger insisted that he run the opening exercises without his wand?

"Constant vigilance, boy!" snarled the instructor.

In a move that surprised himself Draco threw his body at the floor to avoid a hex, and rolled immediately to the side to avoid another. He was going to be absolutely black and blue. He kept moving, and soon found himself in a corner.

With a nasty smile on his face, Moody let one last hex fly straight at Draco's rear. "Constant vigilance! You need to be aware of your surroundings. You could have hid behind any of the furniture behind me, but instead you let me back you into a corner. What's wrong with you?"

He gritted his teeth. "I was trying to avoid the hexes."

"A lot of good it did you, didn't it? Sometimes the only way out is forward. Behind my desk would have been a decent place for you to regroup. Better still would have been behind the Foe-Glass. Some of the curses might have rebounded off of it and hit me." The old man shook his head. "You're supposed to be one of the smart ones. What's wrong with you?"

Draco bristled. Half a dozen sarcastic remarks waited on the tip of his tongue, but he had a feeling that saying any one of them would result in the bastard cuffing him on the ear. "I am smart. Give me time to show you what I can do. I excel at potions and charms. My transfiguration marks were very good. When I have my wand, I can duel as well as anyone."

Moody snorted. "You don't want to go toe to toe with me. I had you on your buttocks with that first jinx before you were halfway into the room. You had your wand on you then—you didn't clear the room, didn't pause to see what might be in here, didn't throw up a shield. You were on the ground before you knew what hit you." He gazed appraisingly at Draco. "You think you're good at potions?" He creaked over to the desk and yanked open a drawer, setting three tiny bottles on the table. "One of these is poison. Another is the antidote. And the third one will give you a nasty rash. Find the poison and drink it. Find the antidote and drink it."

Draco stared at him for a moment and then approached the table, swallowing hard.

* * *

She gave Smith a last set of instructions about their current studies before leaving the office a bit early for the day. Just a couple of days after she and Ginny had discussed Lavender's impending wedding, the note from Lavender had arrived listing the time and place of the fitting. Hermione didn't see why they all needed to go at the same time; the dresses could just as easily be left to be dealt with at each witch's convenience, but…that wasn't how Lavender wanted to do it.

Hermione shortly found herself at the robes shop in Hogsmeade. Parvati was there, and Lavender came up to Hermione brightly and hugged her. "I'm so glad you're here. I was just about to put my dress on. Yours and Parvati's are hanging in the rooms on the end. How have you been?"

She was ushered into a fitting room and found herself staring at a dark green dress with a pink sash. "Really," she muttered. She responded to Lavender's question with half her attention, and listened with half an ear as the girl rambled on at length about her search for the perfect dresses, tablecloths, menu, and cake. Hermione sat on the little stool provided and carefully removed her shoes an clothes, folding them neatly before taking the dress off the hanger.

"Seamus said he's glad that we're getting married so soon. He said it gives me less time to change my mind about what I want."

Hermione struggled into her dress. Aside from the sash, which she found far from flattering, she felt tremendously uncomfortable. Far more of her chest was exposed than she'd prefer, and it was strapless. The darn thing was going to fall down on her. She didn't mind the length—knee-length. "Lavender, are you _sure_ this is the dress you want me to wear? I'm afraid I can't pull it off. I'm sure it looks lovely on Parvati." She squirmed a bit, trying to adjust the top to make it cover a bit more.

"Oh, I'm sure it looks fine, Hermione, just come out so we can see," said Parvati.

Sighing and barefoot, Hermione came out of the dressing room, "Well?"

Parvati was dressed the same way she was, but wearing heels. "Turn around. I'll have to do your hair the day of the wedding."

Exasperated, Hermione turned around, her mane flaring a bit behind her. She noticed the dress lifted around her a bit as she turned. The over all effect wasn't terrible, except for that pink bow. And the cleavage. She was surprised the dress stayed up—she would have thought the weight of her chest might drag it down. She bounced once or twice experimentally.

Lavender beamed. "You're not going to fall out. I spoke to the witch who made this—some sort of charm sewn into the fabric. You can dance in it all night and the girls will stay put."

Hermione relaxed a little and took a moment to look at Lavender. Even with her hair a bit mussed from changing clothes and a couple of love bites showing on her neck when she brushed her hair aside—she was beautiful. Her gown fell to the floor and had a short train behind it. The top was fitted and the skirt was very full. "You look wonderful," she told her sincerely.

"Really? I'm not going to wear my hair like this on the day of the wedding. I'm going to wear it up, so you both need to wear yours down." She reached out and touched Hermione's hair. "I'm sure we can do something with this. Does everything fit? Where are the shoes?"

Hermione had to concede that while she might like a little more coverage, the dress did fit. She went back to the dressing room and found the shoes that had been set out and slipped them on. She did _not_ enjoy walking in heels. When Lavender was fixing her hair in the mirror Hermione came up next to her. "Lavender, are you sure you want to get married? If it's because of the law, I'm trying to fix that. Any day now I'm sure I'll get a letter from the Ministry saying that the Minister will see me."

"Hermione, just stop babbling. Seamus and I want to get married." She patted her hair. "We've been together for a while now and we love each other and…and it's right. We'll be happy. We _are_ happy. So just stop. If you can't be happy for me…"

Hermione laid her fingers on the other girl's arm, trying to be soothing. "I do want you to be happy. I just thought you might be doing it because of the law."

"Well, I'm not," she snapped. "You know me, Hermione. I don't do anything I don't want to. And I want to do this." She smoothed the dress over her hips, fussing with the fabric. "Does it really look all right? Is the fit okay?"

Hermione looked at the other girl in the mirror and then looked her in the eyes. "Beautiful. I promise." As Hermione went back to her dressing room to change out of the dress—her feet were already killing her—it looked like Parvati was trying to catch her eye, but then Lavender called her to help her get out of her voluminous wedding dress. Hermione shrugged it off and got changed.

"Hermione?" Lavender called out from her dressing room.

"Yes?"

"Will you be bringing a date to the wedding?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the mirror. Did she really have to decide that now? The wedding was three weeks away. She supposed Ginny would bring Blaise, so she wouldn't have anyone to talk to at the reception if she didn't bring someone. She supposed she could talk to Harry and Ron if they weren't too busy with dates. It was all so unnecessary.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, I'm bringing someone," she responded.

Lavender and Parvati got rather excited on her behalf about this. "Are you and Ronald back together?"

"Are you seeing someone new?"

"Who is it?"

Her patience was quickly wearing thin. "It's not Ron. You'll see at the wedding."

"Is it Neville? He dances surprisingly well for someone who usually can't put one foot in front of the other," Lavender said.

Hermione brushed them aside and got her dress and shoes packaged up to take with her. "I'll see you at the wedding and you'll find out then."

"But what about the bachelorette party? You have to come to that."

Hermione briefly contemplated what sort of excuse she might make, but realized she didn't know the date yet. "I'll try," she promised.

"Oh good. It will be the Friday night before the wedding."

She couldn't get out of the shop fast enough.

* * *

Theo was just getting ready to head to the apothecary shop when he received the letter.

_November 14_

_Theo,_

_ I know it's short notice for this sort of thing, but would you mind coming with me to a wedding? It's the last Saturday of the month, at two in the afternoon. Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnegan from our year at Hogwarts are getting married. I have to go—I promised to be a bridesmaid._

_ Let me know one way or the other so I can give Lavender a proper RSVP number._

_Hermione_

He read it over once and slipped it in his pocket. He didn't particularly relish the idea of going to a wedding—not with the doom of that idiotic marriage law hanging over him. All the same, free food and wine, and plenty of pretty girls dancing might make it worth going. And he hadn't had a bad time with Hermione when they'd doubled with Blaise and Ginny a few weeks before.

If Blaise was going, he'd be willing to go. He rummaged around in his pocket for an owl treat and sent Hermione's owl away. He took a moment to scribble a short note to his friend and sent it off with his own owl—Dante.

* * *

Every inch of his body ached terribly. He was certain that even his brain and eyebrows hurt. But it was worth it. Probably. Maybe. Salazar, he hoped so.

After his last session today—after a positively torturous week—Moody had clapped him on the shoulder and gruffly told him to report to the main training area Monday morning, _if_ he thought he could work as part of a team. "If you can't be part of a team, get out of here, and I never need to see your face again."

Draco had stood a little straighter, despite the pain in his back where he'd been crushed against the wall earlier. "I'll see you Monday."

Now that he was home and laying on his luxurious mattress, he never wanted to move again. He considered taking off his robes, but it seemed like too much effort. He considered vanishing the damn things, but again, too much effort—he'd have to raise his arm to point his wand.

Dodging hexes and having to drink poison were hardly the worst of it. He had to learn to heal his own injuries to a degree he'd never done before. "Can't leave a wounded comrade in the field!" Moody had barked. "If he's to injured to move you damn well fix him and get him out of there." He wondered why more healing wasn't taught at Hogwarts—bits and pieces in Charms or Herbology or Potions as it had fit in, but no specific courses on it.

He was forced to untangle interlayered hexes—he was good at solving puzzles. His transfiguration work was less promising, but good enough to get him through. He had wondered why he'd ever be able to need to have a sofa grow legs and charge at an enemy anyway—this comment had resulted in half an hour of Draco having to run around to keep the charging sofa Moody had created from hitting him, and another twenty minutes for Draco to disable it after Moody decided the boy had had enough running.

All in all, he was satisfied. It was good to be out of the house, to have something to do other than think about the things that just didn't bear thinking about. He hadn't seen much of his mother this week, only seeing her briefly at dinner before passing out later. The only comment she'd made within his earshot about his theoretically impending nuptials was to say that she had gone to a number of places this week looking for something free on his next birthday and found them all unsuitable. She declared that if all of the selections were this terrible, she'd have the wedding at Malfoy Manor—it outclassed all of the others.

He vaguely recalled responding that he didn't want to get married on his birthday.

Draco drifted into sleep during that first hour home after his final day of training. When he woke up, he treated himself to a visit to his favorite massage place. After this week, he had most definitely earned it.

* * *

Hermione was just leaving a shop in Diagon Alley with a set of self-washing plates for Lavender and Seamus when she ran into one of the last people she'd expected to see. There, leaving Madam Malkins with a new set of robes over his arm, was Draco Malfoy.

To her surprise, he acknowledged her existence with a nod. "Granger."

"Malfoy."

He paused, adjusting the robes over his arm. "Have you gotten anywhere with fighting that atrocious law? You seemed quite keen on striking it down."

She dug her nails into her palm. She was frustrated that she hadn't gotten anywhere yet, though she was surprised he was even mentioning it to her. He remembered a conversation they had three months ago? "I'm going to get through to them. They're just stupider than I thought they were," she insisted.

He nodded, and she thought—just possibly—his face looked a touch resigned. "They're not just a little stupider than you thought, Granger. They're immensely stupid. You'll never get through to them."

"I will. It will just take time."

He gave a tiny huff of disbelief. "Well, I'm running out of time. Apparently my mother plans to marry me off by my birthday."

She wasn't sure what to say. She wondered if he knew that she had met up with his mother a couple of times. "Well, how long do you have until then?"

"August first."

"I'll get it taken care of before that, even if I have to stand outside the Minister's house and wait for him to leave for work in the morning," she promised. "I'm not letting anyone get sucked into this if I can help it. It's bad enough I have to go to one wedding already, let alone imagining having to go to one for each of all of my friends affected by this stupid thing." She pushed her hair out of her face.

He noticed her bag then and gestured towards. "Wedding present?"

"Self-cleaning dishes. I can't imagine Lavender has ever washed a dish in her life." She shifted on her feet. "What are those robes for?"

The question triggered the trademark Malfoy smirk on his face. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She tilted her chin down, looking at him with a wry smile. "Try me."

"Auror robes. I start training Monday."

She was momentarily taken aback. "Really? No."

"Really," he smirked. "Moody tested me all week. Nothing I couldn't handle. I join the rest of the class in two days."

She swallowed, still trying to get over the shock. Seriously. Malfoy training to be an Auror. It was like something out of a novel or a poorly researched movie. "Well, that's great, Malfoy. I'm glad you're interested in turning over a new leaf. I wish you all the best."

"Thanks," he said, perhaps a bit awkwardly.

"I'm sure the look on Ron's face when you walk into training will be priceless," she offered. "I'm sure you'll enjoy that."

He wrinkled his nose. "The Weasel? Should have known."

There was a moment of silence as they were aware that they were standing in the street talking to one another in a civil, almost friendly way. Malfoy hadn't had a conversation this long with anyone but Moody in a week.

He adjusted the robes over his arm as though he wasn't sure how to say goodbye. He nodded once. "I have important things to do." He took off.

Hermione snorted in disbelief. That was about the lamest goodbye she'd heard in a while. "Alright, Malfoy, have fun watching your mother spend the next nine months planning your wedding. You know, you _could_ be pro-active and go knock on the Minister's door yourself. But that would be hard work, wouldn't it?" she said to his disappearing back. She shook her head. This was a very strange day. It was time to go home.

As she entered the flat, she said, "Ginny, I just had the strangest conver—hi, Ron."

There was Ron Weasley, sitting on her sofa rather awkwardly. "Hi, Hermione," Ron said. "I thought it'd been a while since I'd seen you. Ginny wash here, but she said she had to go. She said it was okay if I waited for you."

Hermione nodded, setting the bag with Lavender's plates down, as well as her handbag. "Well, can I get you anything?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Ginny said your getting something for the wedding?"

Hermione had gone to the kitchen and was making herself a pot of tea. She could hear something strange in his voice and looked back out. "Yes. I picked up some self-cleaning plates for her. Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

He shook his head and peeled himself off the couch, trailing after her into the kitchen. "So, are you going to Seamus's wedding?"

"Yeah. I'm a bridesmaid. I kind of have to."

Ron avoided looking at her. "I know we're not together anymore, but I was thinking, maybe we could go together—since we're both going."

She was busy preparing her tea and opted not to look at him. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm going with someone else. Ginny and I doubled dated a couple of weeks ago and I asked her boyfriend's friend to go to the wedding with me. I figured it'd be easier." She snuck a look at him out of the corner of her eye, the kettle in one hand.

For a brief second he looked a bit crestfallen, but then he just seemed agitated. "If you don't want to go with me, just say it."

"Ronald Weasley, I'm telling you the truth. I have a date. Deal with it."

"Sure you do. I'll be going." He started towards the door.

She slammed the kettle down on the counter, splashing herself a little with the boiling water in the promise. She grimaced. "Ronald Weasley, you said you missed me and wanted to talk to me. You're going to storm out now because you can't get exactly what you want? I don't know anything about how your training is going. You haven't asked about my work. You haven't asked about me hounding the Ministry with letters or offered to help send any. You self-centered prat. If you want to leave, fine, go. But don't for one second pretend that you want to be friends again if you're just going to pull this rubbish." Hermione was breathing hard, she could feel her chest breathing as she tried to capture enough air. And her arm smarted so bad where she'd splashed herself with that stupid boiling water.

His mouth worked for a moment, opening and closing as though unable to decide what to say. He finally gave a disgusted shout of, "Girls!" and left, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione stood there in the silence before gathering herself up and finding a healing cream in the bathroom for her scalded skin. If only there was something for her scalded heart. Just when she thought they might be friends again…

How was it that she could have a more civil conversation with Malfoy today than with Ron?

* * *

After the emotional drain of her fight with Ronald Saturday and a terrible night's sleep, Hermione spent most of Sunday in bed. She was allowed to feel sorry for herself for a finite number of hours before putting her nose back to the grindstone. Nothing could have made her Monday morning better than the letter she received shortly before she left for work.

It made her practically giddy with excitement. After all of her weeks upon weeks of badgering, coaxing, and making herself a general nuisance at the Ministry, she was finally going to get a day with the Wizengamot to present her case about this law. She'd just have to wait four months for a date. She could wait. In the meantime, she'd build her case.

* * *

Narcissa's elegant handwriting flowed across the page. She had overheard Draco make plans with his friends this weekend. It might be a good time to have Hermione Granger over again. After all, Draco would be of no help planning this party. He wouldn't plan the party, wouldn't plan his wedding. The boy was absolutely no help at all.

_November 24, 1999_

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_ I am planning a soiree for some time in December. I would dearly love your input. I think you probably have a much better idea about what sorts of things the young girls might like. I do hope you're available to assist me Friday night—it has been several weeks since I last saw you and I would like to catch up with one another._

_Ever,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

She sealed the letter with her family crest. She called out to the house-elf who appeared nearly immediately.

"Yes, mistress?"

"I want this sent to Hermione Granger right away."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter was getting a bit too long, so I cut it off. I'll continue with Lavender's wedding in the next chapter and bring back more of the group dynamics. This chapter was a bit Hermione-centric, but hopefully you enjoyed it?


	6. November: The Wedding

**Author's Note: **I'm so excited about this chapter. Wrote most of it in a single night. I had a lot of fun. I really hope you enjoy it. Please review and let me know what you think. My next update should be on Can I Keep Him or possibly In the Closet. I've thought about adding some snogging scenes to this story, descriptive, but not going above the T rating. Good idea? Or just too out of character for the story? Please let me know.

* * *

**November (Part II)**

* * *

Hermione received Narcissa's letter with mixed enthusiasm. On the one hand, it would get her out of having to attend that mind numbing bachelorette party. On the other, she knew nothing about planning a party, particularly whatever sort Narcissa might be interesting in hosting. Weighing the pros and cons of both situations she decided if she had to go to one, she might as well pick Narcissa since she'd have to put up with Lavender and Parvati for most of the next day.

By (somewhat) happy coincidence, on Friday afternoon, Hermione was swamped with work. Several cases that had seemed straightforward were escalating. No one had expected such a severe reaction between witch hazel and essence of murtlap. She stayed at work several hours dealing with it (and owled her sincerest apologies to Narcissa). She was quite pleased to end up spending her Friday night in a bubble bath with a good book and take out.

All the same, Saturday morning came, and before long, Hermione found herself saying goodbye to her snug bed for a morning of torture against her appearance at the hands of Parvati and Lavender, and trying to keep the other two from losing their heads.

She saw Ginny as she was getting ready to Floo out. "I've got to go there now, but you'll be there at two with Blaise and Theo?"

"Yes, Hermione, I promise. Go take care of the girls. They'll need somebody level like you today. I can't believe they're doing this without a rehearsal the day before, but I guess it has all been pretty rushed," Ginny said, stifling a long yawn.

"Okay, it's just, Ron flew so off the handle last time I saw him."

"I'll worry about Ron. You go." Ginny threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace for Hermione.

A clearly enunciated word, and Hermione found herself through the flames and at Lavender's house. Lavender's mother greeted her and steered her towards Lavender's room. Lavender was in a bathrobe.

"My hair is all wrong. It's just not going to be right. I ought to just pull it all out," she said, a bit hysterical.

Parvati was by her side in a moment, armed with her brush, her wand, a comb, and several potions. "Now don't worry about it. Your hair is beautiful. You're beautiful. Everything is going to go fine today. Seamus loves you. He's not going to leave you. Your hair is not going to fall out."

Hermione laid her dress and shoes down across one of the spare chairs in the room and went over to assist. She stood by and merely held all of the creams and potions Parvati had at her disposal. "Did the two of you have a good time at the bachelorette party? Lots of drinking and wild fun?" she asked, not knowing what else to say.

Lavender smiled weakly. "Lots of fun. No drinking."

Parvati gave Hermione a _look_ over Lavender's head, but she couldn't quite discern was it was. It would be a long morning.

* * *

Theo called out the name of Blaise's residence and stuck his head in the fireplace, kneeling in front of it. "Blaise!" he croaked.

There was some delay and Blaise came out, wrapped in a towel and with his hair wet, but combed. "What?"

"I feel like hell."

"You look like it. What's wrong with you?"

"Don't think that wassabit stuff agreed with me last night. It's like I've been kicked in the gut."

"I told you not to eat that much wasabi if you'd never had it before," he said, rolling his eyes. "Well, tough."

Theo groaned. "There's no way I can go to that thing today."

Blaise looked extremely miffed. He was not going to be getting much alone time with Ginny if Ginny felt like they needed to be keeping Hermione company. He gathered the last time he saw his delightful redhead that there'd been some sort of tiff between Hermione and Ginny's brother. Finally he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Damn. Do you know anyone else who might be free today?"

Theo was silent. Kneeling in front of the hearth like this was not soothing his stomach. "I don't know. Vince. Greg. Draco."

Blaise rubbed his temple, "Neither Vince nor Greg could so much as carry on a conversation with her. They'd try to set her hair on fire or something like that."

"Then try Draco. I'm going to bed, and if you were a better friend you'd be worried about me instead how much time you get to spend groping your girlfriend at a wedding."

Blaise watched his friend withdraw himself from the fireplace and sighed. The thought of setting Draco and Granger up on any semblance of a date was absolutely ridiculous. Admittedly they were both smart. And they both had a similar sense of superiority about themselves. If it weren't that Draco was Draco and Granger was the girl he had tormented for seven years, it might actually work. Too bad Draco was Draco after all. Well, he couldn't lose anything by trying. After all, Draco certainly had nice enough robes for the occasion.

And thus he found himself getting dressed and Flooing to Malfoy Manor. He greeted the house-elves familiarly and asked if Draco was in. On confirmation that he was still in bed, Blaise showed himself to his friend's room, knocking several times loudly and then opening the door. "Draco, get up."

"Nnng," was the oh-so-eloquent response. "Sod off."

"Get up. I need you to double date with me this afternoon. You need to look like a human being, and I know how long it takes you to do your hair, so you better start now." He reached down and deftly yanked Draco's pillow away before the other wizard could respond and tossed it aside.

"Blaise, I am not in the mood."

He looked levelly at his friend (from a safe distance). "Not in the mood to go dance with a pretty girl?"

"When?"

"You've got about 2 hours. It's already noon now. All you need to do is dress up, come with me and my girlfriend, the other girl is a bridesmaid. Speak civilly to her at the reception and maybe dance a little. It's been a long time since you've been out anyway."

Draco was still deliberating about his choice, sitting up rather groggily in bed. There was another knock on the door. He muttered, "Is this turning into King's Cross or something?"

Blaise responded cheerfully to the knock. "Come in!"

It was Narcissa. "Oh good, Draco, you're up. Hello, Blaise, it's always good to see you. Draco, I'd like you to look over these invitations. There's a set for the party next month and we need to pick another set for your wedding next summer." She moved gracefully across the room, sitting lightly at the foot of his bed.

Draco snapped out of bed and started towards the bathroom. "Can't today, Mother. Blaise and I have somewhere to be. I better get dressed." He closed the bathroom door behind himself.

Narcissa shot Blaise a knowing smile and he couldn't help but grin back. "Thank you. Ginny would have been very upset if I didn't have a date for her friend."

"So, who is his date? I won't tell," Narcissa said secretly. She'd always liked Blaise.

He hesitated. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I like to see him getting out of the house too."

"Hermione Granger."

A smile flickered across Narcissa's lips. "You boys have a good time, and you treat those girls right, you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

At quarter to two, Draco and Blaise arrived at Ginny's apartment. Blaise wasn't sure which made him more nervous. Ginny seeing Draco there instead of Theo, or what Draco's reaction would be when he found out Hermione was his date. When the door opened, he went in first and hugged and kissed Ginny, whispering in her ear, "Theo is sick, I had to find a replacement. He doesn't know who his date is."

When they pulled away, Ginny caught sight of Malfoy and tried not to grimace.

Blaise looked at Ginny in her pale blue dress, a hint of cleavage at the neckline, and said, "You look amazing."

She felt her lips twitch into a smile, "You cleaned up pretty nicely yourself."

"Can't wait to twirl you in my arms," he murmured into her ear, kissing her neck.

Draco cleared his throat, just in case they'd forgotten him. He had to admit, the Weaslette had grown up nicely—her pale skin was dusted with freckles, her hair caught the light, she was quite fit.

"Ginny, I know you've met before, but this is Draco, Draco, Ginny." He gave his friend a look that said, _Be nice._

Ginny tried to forced herself smile. Her teeth may or may not have been grinding a little on the first sentence. "Good to see you, Malfoy. Well, we'll meet my roommate at the wedding. I guess we'd all better go, the Portkey will be activated at any moment." She took Blaise's hand and squeezed it, picking up a couple of gift bags and the portkey with her other. "I've got the PortKey right here. Everyone hold on in 3, 2, 1…" They all reached out and touched the slightly rusty doorknocker she held up. And away they went.

They arrived at the venue and quickly found their seats. Every so often Ginny got stopped by someone for hellos and hugs and she introduced Blaise. Draco stood rather awkwardly behind the pair and was pleased when they got to sit down.

Draco, sitting on the aisle, muttered to Blaise, "Weaslette looks good. Who's getting married?"

"Some Gryffindors, just be quiet."

Everyone quieted shortly thereafter and the music started. Seamus Finnegan and the man performing the ceremony were up front, with Dean Thomas as the best man, walking up with Parvati Patil. Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger walked up as the bridesmaid and groomsman.

Last came the bride, holding her father's arm. Lavender was certainly beautiful. The ceremony went by quickly enough and before you knew it, Seamus and Lavender were kissing a bit more than was probably necessary for a just married kiss, but their friends and family were pleased and everyone went on to the reception.

Ginny found the gift table and dropped off her and Hermione's gifts for the couple and led the boys over to a table. She avoided the table her brother was at—there was no sense in making this any more awkward than necessary—and picked a more out of the way one. Draco left to find the bar. It didn't take too long for Hermione to find them, sliding into a seat beside Ginny.

Her hair was down and sleek, framing her face. Her dress fit her most excellently, and her nails were pale lavender, just matching the sash around her waist. "I can't believe how much my feet hurt already in these shoes. I'm so glad all that's over and I can sit for a bit. Where's Theo?" She reached under the table and undid the buckles of her shoes, letting her bare toes feel the grass.

"Theo couldn't make it today."

Blaise put his arm around Ginny. "It's okay though. I found a replacement. He should be back any moment."

She sighed. "Well, I'm going to go get a mimosa or something. This morning has worn me out." She headed towards the bar.

The bar wasn't too crowded yet. Most people were milling around, finding tables, wishing the happy couple congratulations, or getting a start on dinner. She ordered her mimosa and found herself sitting on the barstool, letting her legs dangle to rest her feet. She took a sip. The man two stools over was complaining because the bartender wasn't familiar with whatever it was he had ordered.

She had to do a double take. "Malfoy?"

He took a sip of his drink and looked at the girl next to him. Shapely legs, a nice Slytherin green dress, his eyes roved over the curves, noted the sleek brown hair and came to rest on the face. Whatever he'd been about to say as his lips at curled up in a smirk died as he got to the face. "Granger?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Bailing out a friend. And you?" he asked, taking a sip of his less than satisfactory drink.

She gestured to her dress, grabbing it by the hem. "I'm a bridesmaid. Lavender and I were roommates for seven years."

"Oh, right."

"Well, I better get back to my friends," she said, slipping off of the stool carefully and padding barefoot through the grass. She was grateful for the spell around the pavilion, keeping the worst of the cold weather out, but she still wondered why the reception had to be outdoors in November.

She sat back down at the table with her drink just as Blaise and Ginny were getting up to get something to eat. Hermione noticed that Ginny had also opted to ditch her shoes as well. She hadn't been at the table for more than about a minute when someone approached.

"You?" he asked her in disbelief.

"Excuse me?" She looked up.

"Blaise said this was my table. Bloody hell, Granger, you're my date?"

"Blaise thought you'd be a good substitute for Theo?" she asked.

They stared at one another for a moment, and he didn't sit down.

Finally she sighed and took a large sip of her drink before continuing. "Either you're horrified enough that you'll leave now, or your stomach isn't churning and you're willing to sit down and have a half-decent time. Take your pick, but don't just stand there. I don't like to have people looming over me."

Rolling his eyes, Draco sat down. "Alcohol, food, and music. This should be less painful than looking at invitations with my mother," he muttered.

She figured she might as well make the best of this. After all, her last conversation with Malfoy had been more civil than her last one with Ron. "So how is your training going?"

He told her about the various training exercises he'd endured the past week, and the protests Ron had made upon seeing him enter the class.

"What did Moody say to that?"

Draco lowered his voice to a gravelly growl, imitating the old Auror, and squinting with one eye, "Weasley, anybody who's going to act like an eleven year old with her knickers in a twist isn't welcome in this program. Every last one of you needs to have the backs of every other one when you're out in the field. If you can't do that, you don't belong here. If you think there is anyone in this room you can't work with, I don't need to see your sorry face again."

Hermione chuckled. "I'm sure that went over well. I can just picture how red his face would have gone."

Draco nodded seriously. "All the way to his ears."

With that as the icebreaker, they were chatting fairly amiably by the time Blaise and Ginny returned, each bearing a plate for him or herself and a plate for their friends at the table. "Well you seem to be getting along," Blaise said cheerfully. Maybe this wouldn't be so disastrous after all.

Draco shot his friend _We'll talk later_ sort of look.

All in all, of the four of them, they were not having a terrible time. Harry came over at one point, asking if anyone had seen were Luna had gone. He looked surprised to see Malfoy sitting at the table but didn't say anything about it. Malfoy just looked back coolly.

"We haven't seen her, but why don't you sit with us?" asked Ginny.

Harry hesitated, his gaze lingering on the former Slytherins, as though he didn't want to leave the girls with them. "I don't think so. I'm going to get back to my table before Ron comes looking for me."

Ginny burst out laughing as his retreating back, and Blaise was chuckling. They looked as Dean announced the bride and groom having their first dance. Once the two of them had been on the floor for a moment or so, Dean suggested the other couples join them.

Blaise stood and offered Ginny his hand, "Would you care to dance?"

Ginny smiled, taking his hand, and stood. "I'd love to. Are you two coming?"

Malfoy gave her an incredulous look. "I think we're fine just here."

"Well, we'll be back soon," Ginny promised.

Blaise added over his shoulder as they walked away, "No we won't."

They were chatting a bit and did a bit of people watching. Hermione noted with humor when Blaise's hands slid down to Ginny's rear, and no objection came from her. Draco eventually even offered to get her a drink when he got up to get himself one.

And so it was that Hermione found herself alone at the table when Ron approached her. "No date, huh? You lied to me."

"No, I didn't. I have a date," she said. "He went to get drinks."

"Sure he did. Who is it anyway?"

"It's none of your business," she snapped.

"I knew you didn't have one—"

Someone came up behind Hermione then and put his arm around her bare shoulders. She stiffened. Malfoy's voice asked calmly, "Is he bothering you? I'll be sure to see him escorted off the premises if he is." He smiled serenely, every inch the gentleman.

"No, he's not, I think he was just leaving. Weren't you, Ron?" she asked coldly.

Ron's face was fast-becoming red. "Him? You ditched me to come here with him? I thought Harry must have been wrong or joking or…" He looked thoroughly disgusted.

Hermione looked at Ron and then turned her head to give the hand that was on her shoulder a kiss. She looked back at Ron. "I didn't ditch you to come with him. You and I were never coming here together. You asked me to come here long after I'd already made other plans. If you don't like it, leave. We're trying to have a nice time." Her voice had gone positively icy.

Draco's voice was entirely reasonable and rational, though even without being able to see his face, Hermione could detect the familiar smirk. "We're on the same side now, aren't we, Weasley? Teammates and all? I don't see what you can possibly be objecting to. Come on, love, let's go dance."

He offered her his other hand and she came to her feet, following him away, his arm still on her shoulder.

Before Ron could draw his wand or say anything else nasty, Neville and Harry came up and took him each by an arm. They were smiling and to all appearances seemed friendly—just friends taking care of a buddy who had maybe had a little too much—but they certainly had a firm grip on him.

"I think you've had a little too much, mate."

"I think Parvati was looking to dance with you, let's go visit her, yeah?"

They steered Ron away expertly away from the table without drawing any further attention to the scene.

As they reached the dance floor and faced one another, Hermione could see that Malfoy was totally smirking. She rather suspected her own face had a wicked grin on it as well. She hadn't wanted to upset Ron at all, but he just came over so accusingly, and Malfoy volunteered, so why not?

So there they were, on the dance floor with there arms around one another. The music was slow and Malfoy was light on his feet. "Did you see the look on Weasley's face?"

"I thought his head was going to explode."

They didn't see Neville and Harry escorting Ron away, or anything else. They were just talking, and laughing, and dancing.

"Thanks for coming today, Malfoy."

"It was worth it just for that look on Weasely's face," he said, nonchalantly. His arms were around her waist, and he took one of her hands in his to twirl her, almost without thinking.

She felt herself pressed against him at the end of the turn, her nose filled with the scent of whatever he was wearing. "I mean it. I had asked Theo to come just as a friend—didn't know anyone else I could have asked. Though I suppose I could have asked Neville, but I didn't think of it. And then Ron jumped to conclusions like an idiot when I said I couldn't come with him. I would have looked like an idiot showing up alone."

Draco looked around at the small crowd of people. "Well, he's the only idiot I see." He paused. "Well, there's a lot of ex-Gryffindors here, so maybe not the only one, but the biggest one."

She felt him spin her gently again. "You're really very good at this. Have you had much practice?"

He nearly rolled his eyes. "Part of the curriculum of growing up in my household. All Malfoys are expected to be able to dance. After all, don't women equate dancing with sex?"

Before Hermione could respond, someone called out, "It's time to cut the cake!"

"I guess we better go." She smiled and left the question hanging in the air as they went over to where Lavender and Seamus stood near their cake. Hermione rather suspected magic might be being used to keep the thing from falling over. To her surprise, he didn't drop her hand when they made it over to the cake. She looked down pointedly at their joined hands.

He whispered, "Just in case the Weasel is watching."

She didn't object.

They watched as Lavender cut the cake, and Seamus fed a piece to her, and she fed a piece to him. "I might be nauseous," Malfoy muttered.

"You and me both," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Still, their friends and family cheered and someone else came up to cut the rest of the slices and hand them out. They took their cake back to the table. "If this law doesn't get repealed, can you imagine how many more of these we'll have to go to this year?"

He shot her a disgusted look. "I don't want to think about it. If the law doesn't get repealed, mine will be one of them." He dug into his cake a bit petulantly.

"Come with me to see the Minister then. Do something proactive about it. Otherwise your mother is going to just plan your whole life away. You won't know who you're marrying 'til she lifts up the veil, and you'll be stuck."

He stared down at his cake. "It's not like I've got anything else going on."

"You're in training to be an Auror now. That's something. You're smart; you could do anything you have the patience for. Help me with this. Just…write one letter. I'm sure he's sick of hearing from me by now."

"Mind if we sit?"

"Not at all, go ahead," Hermione said, as Harry and Luna sat down. "Did Ron calm down?"

Harry looked a bit awkward. "He was on a bit of a rant and wouldn't shut his mouth. Parvati came up all smiling and offered him a drink. Turned out there was a pretty strong sleep potion in it. We left him inside on the couch."

Hermione looked a bit scandalized. "Did she mix it with alcohol? You're not supposed to do that. It says so right on the label. The aftereffects are considerably worse—oh hang it, I don't care. He deserves his hangover." She slumped a bit in her chair and finally started on her cake.

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly at Draco, but Draco only shrugged—it was all he could do to keep from laughing.

"Does anyone know where Ginny and Blaise have gotten to? I haven't seen them in ages." Hermione reached under the table, slipping her shoes back on as she asked.

"They were busy snogging behind the house the last time I saw them," said Luna, smiling. "They looked very happy."

Draco, unused to Luna's matter of factness, nearly choked on his cake, laughing.

Laughing, Hermione excused herself to go to the restroom. The party still seemed to be going in full swing. People were drinking, dancing, and laughing. She made her way inside, passing by the snoring Ron on the sofa and made her way to the bathroom. She could hear the sound of someone retching.

"Hello?"

There was no answer and the door was cracked open, and Hermione tentatively stepped inside.

There was Lavender, kneeling in front of the toilet.

"Lavender…" Hermione conjured several rags for her. The young bride dragged herself away from the toilet and accepted the cloth from the other girl gladly.

"Thank you. I'm sorry. You'd think with everything else magic can do…well, it can't fix this. It's been going on for more than a month now."

"Lavender, are you…?"

She nodded, looking wan. "Seamus and I are okay with this. It's just…it's hard sometimes. I should be having fun out there right now and I'm in here. I know one of the theories is that this is the baby's magic reacting with mine, which is why it can't be controlled. You wouldn't want to do anything to harm the little one's magic."

Hermione wasn't sure what to do and knelt on the floor with the other girl, putting a comforting arm around her. "I don't know if that's true or not. I mean, Muggle women respond the same way."

"Really?"

She nodded.

They sat there for a few minutes until Lavender's nausea had passed enough for her to stand up. Hermione helped clean her up and then Lavender looked in the mirror and fussed with her hair a bit. "Other than this just now…are you having a good time? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything has been great. I think everyone is having a nice time," Hermione said offhandedly. She really had to pee.

Lavender caught sight of Hermione's distracted air. "I saw you here with Malfoy. I didn't know you two were together."

"We're not. It was a blind date. I just needed someone to come with today," she said.

"Well, you looked awfully cozy," she said, knowingly. She sighed. "I suppose I should be getting back out there. Let's go."

"Actually, I'll be along in a few minutes, Lavender. Go on without me."

"Oh, right," Lavender said, leaving and locking the door behind her.

When Hermione rejoined the party, the crowd seemed as though it might be beginning to thin a bit. As she passed by the dance floor Dean asked Hermione for a dance. "Just one?" he repeated, smiling.

Hermione acquiesced. Dean wasn't a bad dancer by any means, but her certainly didn't dance like Malfoy—Malfoy was firm but gentle, sure of every step, a bit more unnecessarily complicated than it had to be but every move flowed easily into the next. She shook the thoughts from her head.

"Mind if I cut in?" asked Blaise.

Dean chuckled and Hermione looked exasperated, but allowed him to take her in his arms. He moved more like Malfoy—as if he had a natural poise and knew exactly what he was doing. "Have you had a good time today?"

She looked up at him wryly. "Well, it could have gone a lot worse. I guess I have you to thank for having a date today?"

He gave a bow that may or may not have been part of the dance. "I aim to please. Theo ate something that disagreed with him last night."

"Yes," she continued. "Quite gallant of you to find some poor sop to keep me company since you planned to abscond with my best friend all night."

"You wouldn't believe me if I said she was the one who kidnapped me?" There was a look of utter innocence on his countenance.

She chuckled, seeing several reasons why he might appeal to Ginny. "Oh, I do firmly believe she might take it into her head to kidnap you. And of course if she did, you're too much of a gentleman to refuse her."

"Of course. One mustn't make a woman think she's not capable of something—she'll try three times as hard to do it and might break her neck."

"Or succeed."

"Or that, yes. At any rate, we were thinking of leaving soon, but Ginny said we ought to check and see if you were ready to go," he explained, dipping her backwards carefully.

"Oh, I could stay or go. I imagine Malfoy is probably ready to be out of here already—unless he ran off while I was in the bathroom."

"No, I'm still here, wondering why you're ruining my reputation by dancing with other men, when you came here with the best looking one," drawled Malfoy. "I got sick of waiting at the table. If I would have stayed and longer the Weaslette would have wanted to dance with me or something."

Ginny was standing next to him, looking a bit miffed. "No, but I do want to dance with Blaise," she said, looking at her boyfriend. "What happened to the drinks you got up to get?"

"I got distracted on my way by this lovely witch. Doesn't she look divine, Draco?"

Draco looked at Hermione and shrugged noncommittally. "I've certainly seen worse."

"Oh, that's flattering," she said. "We can leave if everyone is ready to head out."

The four of them said their goodbyes to the newlyweds and gathered together to leave. Blaise, Ginny, and Hermione went back to the girls' flat, though Draco declined, vaguely indicating there were a number of other things he'd rather do than subject himself to Muggle entertainment with them. Admittedly it probably wouldn't have been Blaise's first choice either.

When Hermione finally went to bed, she couldn't help feeling that it had been a very strange day. She'd had a reasonably good time at a social event with Malfoy. Maybe brats could grow up into mature, responsible wizards.

And then she thought about Ron.

Maybe not.


End file.
